I Will Hurt You
by Lia76
Summary: When unexplained injuries start happening to Sam, can he and Dean figure out the supernatural cause before it's too late? Takes place during season two before the finale.
1. Bizarre Abstract Painting

**Chapter 1: Bizarre Abstract Painting**

As Dean turned the key to unlock the door to their latest crap hole motel room, he dreaded that it would be as hot as Hades inside. The room had been offered to them at a third of the regular rate due to the broken air conditioner. Good for their wallets, bad for their comfort. He generally didn't mind hot summer weather, but the current heat wave was unrelenting. His light t-shirt clung to him from sweat like a second skin, and he was dying to rip it and his stifling jeans off before dropping onto his bed. It was late and he was _beyond_ exhausted. Anyone who thought that hustling pool wasn't hard work was completely crazy. To make matters worse, he had only managed to get a hundred and fifty bucks for his trouble. Not the worst he's ever done, but far from the best.

After pushing open the door, he saw that it was dark inside. Sam was obviously already asleep, the only sound the hum of a small box fan the front desk guy threw in to seal the deal. Sam was no doubt hogging it, but Dean would rectify that shortly. He who brought home the bacon got the damn fan, Dean decided. As he stepped inside, Dean hit the light switch by the door to see his way to the bathroom. Dean was surprised when a shirtless Sam grumbled something unintelligable as he turned onto his side, further entangling his sheet around his waist and legs like a boa constrictor. Sam usually slept like the dead. Guess the fan wasn't helping much to make the heat any more tolerable, Dean thought. As he walked past Sam's bed to the bathroom, peeling off his shirt and dropping it to the floor as he went, something out of the corner of his eye stopped him. He moved to turn on the lamp on the small table between the two beds to get a closer look at his brother's now exposed back.

"Off," Sam protested in a gravely voice before he shoved his entire face into the pillow.

"Where did you get those?" Dean asked, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed now. "Were you in a rumble with the other Greasers while I was out, Ponyboy?" Dean asked in an attempt to conceal his concern with humor.

"What?" Sam asked, his now open eyes squinting from the brightness.

"After you get over the shock of learning that I actually read The Outsiders _and_ liked it," Dean said, "tell me where in the hell you got those bruises. Because I'm pretty sure the cursed piano from our last job didn't have any fists."

"Whatbruises," Sam said, his words still slurred from sleep, as he turned his head a bit to try to look.

"Dude, you can't see your back unless you're hiding a third eye under that mop you call hair," Dean said as he rustled his little brother's hair.

"Go away!" Sam demmanded before closing his eyes again, convinced that Dean was drunk off his ass.

"You better be wearing boxers," Dean mumbled as he struggled to haul his spaghetti limbed, almost six and a half feet tall brother up and out of bed to drag him into the bathroom. "See for yourself!"

Sam opened his mouth to further object the rude awakening until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Black and blue bruises spread across his back making it look like the canvas of a bizarre abstract painting. Dean was right, they all appeared to be in a shape of a closed fist.

"What the hell?" Sam exclaimed, fully awake now.

"What the hell is right!" Dean agreed while he watched his brother continue to examine himself in the mirror.

"I don't know what to say," Sam said with a sigh. "I think I'd remember if someone used me as a punching bag."

"You'd think," Dean said as he shook his head. "You okay?" Dean asked more serious now.

"Well, it's kind of like a mosquito bite that doesn't itch until you know it's there. Now my back hurts like hell," Sam explained.

"Looks like we're not going to have to work very hard to find anything supernatural here, because it looks like the supernatural has already found you," Dean declared as he left the bathroom to get his equipment out of the Impala's trunk.

* * *

"Two javas coming up!" Dean said as he sat down next to Sam at a table in the motel's lobby early the next morning. 

"It's a thousand degrees outside. What do I want coffee for?" Sam asked as Dean sat the styrofoam cup down next to his laptop.

"Because we both need the caffiene after last night. I wish we had at least found _some_ trace of something. Anyway, I don't think the coffee's hot anyway," Dean explained with a smile.

"Great," Sam mumbled.

"Pretend it's one of those girly iced macchio things you like," Dean said.

"You mean macchiato?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Whatever, Samantha. Just try it. How bad can it be?"

Sam looked at his big brother for a moment, remembering when he was six and Dean told him that lima beans tasted just like jelly beans. Of coure, they didn't taste _anything_ like jellybeans and Dean had found that very amusing. Sam took a sip anyway and grimaced.

"Ugh! Did they use dirt instead of coffee grounds to make this?" Sam asked as he pushed the cup away.

"Here's a rock to go with that dirt," Dean said with a smile as he dropped a blueberry muffin wrapped in plastic onto the table in front of Sam with a bang.

"I'll think I'll pass," Sam said as he shook his head.

"What do you expect from a free continental breakfast?" Dean asked between big bites of his powdered donut. "They still have half of a strawberry danish left. Guess someone was on a diet," Dean said with his mouth full.

"The food here makes _me_ want to go on a diet," Sam said, leaving the muffin untouched.

"Whatever. It's your stomach," Dean said as he popped the last of the donut into his mouth and licked his lips and each individual finger.

"You done?" Sam asked.

"For now, unless someone brings out more donuts. Did you find anything?" Dean answered, ready to get down to business.

"Well, there's still alot of research to do, but I started with a search for unexplainable bruising," Sam said before he took another sip and grimaced again, having forgotten not to drink the coffee.

He leaned over and put the cup on the next table before continuing so he wouldn't make that stomach churning mistake again.

"Unexplainable bruising," he began again, "can be caused by a number of factors such as child abuse; blood or clotting disorders; serious medical problems, such as leukemia and meningoccocal infection; adverse reactions or side effects from medication; poor nutrition, including vitamin C and K deficiencies; and a family history of abnormal bleeding or bruising."

"Okay. You're not on any medications, although maybe you should be," Dean said with a teasing smile before a glare from Sam prompted him to continue."You don't have any serious medical problems that we know of and we don't have a family history of abnormal bleeding or bruising that I know of. Our bruising and bleeding has been pretty much as normal as can be expected for what we've dealt with, I guess. Now, as for your nutrition, you actually eat vegetables and other heathy crap so I'd cross that off too."

"Anything else from the websites jump out at you so far?" Dean asked.

"A few of them explain how the color of the bruising can determine when it occured. I don't know if that's important or not, but we should make note of it just in case," Sam said. "Do you want to check?"

"Sure, I'd love to," Dean said sarcastically as he put down his coffee and got up.

After Sam leaned forward, he pulled up the back of his brother's shirt, unable to prevent his sharp intake of breath.

"Dude, it looks even worse in daylight," he said as he looked at the website photos and then back at Sam's back. "I'd say a week old or so. You're not hurt anywhere else, right?" Dean asked as he sat back down.

"Dean, you asked me a hundred times already. I 'm fine. We both know that I didn't have these bruises a week ago or even when I went to bed last night, so it can't be something medical. It's gotta be something supernatural. Ghosts or spirits can leave bruises or marks, like with that woman cop."

"Yeah. I remember her. She was nice for..."

"A cop. Yeah. You said. I'll keep looking at the websites, but I think we should also check out this motel pretty thoroughly," Sam suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing. Let's start by talking to the front desk guy. Maybe we can at least steal another fan," Dean hoped as he raised the styrofoam cup to his lips and finished his coffee.

"You're a garbage disposal, you know that?" Sam said.

"Hey, well, it's free. More money for beer later while I work hard to win _us_ some more dough," Dean reminded him as he stood.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay," Sam said with a smile as he closed his laptop to follow Dean to the front desk.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Please check back soon for the next chapter where the real meat of the story begins!**


	2. Ring Bell for Service

"…_I'll keep looking at the websites, but I think we should also check out this motel pretty thoroughly," Sam suggested._

_"I was thinking the same thing. Let's start by talking to the front desk guy. Maybe we can at least steal another fan," Dean hoped as he raised the Styrofoam cup to his lips and finished his coffee._

**Chapter Two: Ring Bell for Service**

"_That's_ your plan?" Sam whispered to Dean as they made their way over to the front desk.

"I think it's genius, actually. Just stand back and watch the master in action," Dean replied. "Hi," Dean said to the middle aged Caucasian man with a dyed black comb over hair style sitting in a metal folding chair behind the counter.

The man glanced up at the pair before looking back down at his newspaper.

"Hello!" Dean said louder with his most charming smile.

The man pointed at a sign above his head without even looking up this time. It read _"Ring bell for service."_

"You GOT to be kidding me!" Dean muttered to Sam.

When the man made no further move to address them, Dean slammed his palm down on the rusting metal bell on the counter next to the cash register. The man smiled, put down his paper, and stood.

"Can I help you boys?" The man asked with a yellow and black toothed smile.

Dean looked at Sam with a "Can you believe this guy?" expression before continuing.

"Yes. How are you today, uh, Tim is it?" Dean said after reading the man's name tag. "My associate and I-," Dean began.

"John," the man said.

"What?" Dean asked, annoyed that his speech was interrupted.

"My name's John," the man corrected him. "Tim doesn't start work until three. You want to come back to talk to him?"

Dean looked at Sam who shrugged. The people you meet, Dean thought.

"Sorry,_ John_," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying, my associate and I are staying in room thirty two and-," Dean began again.

"No refunds man. I told you that the a.c. didn't work," the man reminded him.

"We understand that," Dean said, willing himself to not jump over the counter and strangle the irritating man. "We're here because we have a…business proposition for you."

"Get lost!" he demmanded as he looked back and forth between Dean and Sam. "_I_ prefer women," the man said as he sat back down.

Sam stifled a laugh that he turned into a cough after Dean shot him a look of death.

"That's not what I meant-," Dean said before the man pointed up at the sign.

Dean shook his head and slammed his palm down on the bell again.

"What do you want now?" The man asked as he stood up again.

"Like I was saying. We have a business proposition for you. A way to get more customers to book rooms here without you lifting a finger," Dean began.

"Go on," the man said suspiciously, but obviously already interested.

"We work for the TV show "Ghost Hunters" on the sci-fi channel. Ever hear of it?" Dean asked, flashing his signature smile again.

"Yeah! I love that show. Some scary crap though," the man answered, smiling back. "What does that have to do with me?"

"We're scouting out new locations. If we find evidence that this motel is haunted, we'll not only film here, but spread the word. Tourists will be flocking to this place, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ghost. You can jack up the rates and when something breaks, you can blame the ghosts. You can't lose," Dean answered.

"What do I have to do?" the man asked.

"Let us have the run of the place. Keys to all rooms, permission to speak with all staff, and access to all records. Like I said. You won't have to lift a finger. We'll do all the work. You just have to stay out of our way," Dean explained.

"Well, I guess that sounds good. But first you need to run it by the owner, Sal. He won't be in until eleven tonight," the man explained.

"Tell you what. How about you let us start now and then we'll ask him tonight?" Dean asked as he pushed a fifty dollar bill across the counter. "I'm sure he'll say yes, anyway. And he'll be so happy that you took the initiative to let us get started right away. Maybe so happy that he'll give you a raise."

The man looked down at the bill and quickly shoved it in his pants pocket. He pushed a key across the counter at Dean.

"Master key. Will open any door. Don't steal nothin' or you'll two will be leaving here in pieces so tiny that people will think you were cremated," John said with such ease that Sam actually believed him. "You can talk to any staff you see, although most of us ain't been here for very long. The benefits and the atmosphere stinks, you know? Except for Doris. She's the head housekeeper, and Sal of course. I can't let you look at any records until Sal gives his okay. That's the best I can do. You understand?"

"Yes. We like all of our pieces…in…one…big piece," Dean answered, unsure of how to respond to that unexpected threat. "Get ready to make some money, John! We'll talk to you again soon," Dean said after he put the key in his pocket.

He extended out his hand to shake John's, but John had already turned to sit back down to read his paper.

"What about another fan, master?" Sam teased.

"Shut up!" Dean barked, eliciting a laugh from Sam as he followed his big brother out of the lobby to begin their investigation.

* * *

"Well that was a mammoth waste of time!" Dean yelled as he tossed the duffle bag of detection equipment onto his bed. "We spent hours searching almost every room in this dump. No sightings, no sulfur, no cold spots, no EVP's. And Doris is off for the next two days. John could have mentioned that after I slipped him the fifty! Or at least upgraded our room. God, is it even hotter than yesterday in here?" Dean asked. "I'm going to run out of shirts pretty soon!" he growled as he pulled another one out of his duffle bag to change. 

"Why don't you go out and get us some dinner?" Sam suggested, knowing that food in Dean's stomach usually improved his mood. "I'm going to take a quick shower before I get on the lap top. We still have a lot of work to do before we talk to this Sal guy in a few hours."

"Let's eat out instead. I hear that the diner down the road has a.c. so cold that icicles form on your eyebrows," Dean said.

"Okay, sure. Just give me a few minutes to wash up. I'll take my lap top with us," Sam agreed as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sam turned on the cold water faucet and splashed the water onto his face. It felt surprisingly good, so much so that he even felt chilled. After he turned off the faucet and glanced at himself in the mirror, he realized that it _wasn't_ the cold water making him feel relief. His breath, warm as the air was cold, fogged up the mirror in an instant. His eyes widened and his breath quickened as he watched letters form on the mirror, written by an unseen hand.

"_I…WILL…HURT…YOU"_

Before he could yell for Dean, pain exploded in his right eye and everything went black.

"Sam?" Dean asked while he gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Come on, beddy bye time is over, kiddo."

Sam could hear Dean's voice and feel something cool laying across against his forehead and eyes. He could also feel pain, incredible pain radiating out from his right eye to the base of his skull. A moan was the only response he could muster.

"Thank God. I can't leave you alone for a second?" Dean asked.

"I don't know what happened, Dean. I was just washing my face and the air suddenly got cold. Then I saw a message appear on the mirror," Sam managed to say between the painful throbs in his head.

"What did it say?" Dean asked as he picked up the cold compress from Sam's right eye and winced.

It was already completely swollen shut, with dark bruising around it. Odd. Like the bruising on Sam's back, it didn't look like it just happened. It looked days old.

"I will hurt you," Sam repeated quietly, surprised when a shudder of fear ran through his body at the memory.

Now where did that come from? Sam wondered. He had dealt with much scarier situations. There was something more to this. He put the feeling aside for the time being when Dean spoke again.

"So, it's a friendly ghost," Dean said sarcastically, noticing Sam's reaction, but deciding to let it go for now. "It didn't hurt you anywhere else, did it?" he asked as he held out a couple of pain pills without Sam even having to ask.

It was a routine they were familiar with, whether it was he or Dean at the receiving end of a spirit's vengence.

"Just the eye this time. You find anything in the room?" Sam asked before surpressing a groan.

Dean handed him a glass of water. Sam downed the two pills and then sat up on the bed with Dean's help.

"No. Just like last time. It doesn't make any sense," Dean answered with obvious frustration. "I'm going to keep the equipment on in here from now on, to see if we get something. Whatever is going on, it must have something to do with this room. And with you."

"I agree. Both times it happened, I was in this room. We should focus our attention on the history of this place, investigating this room and its past inhabitants in particular. We have to figure this out fast before there's nothing left of me," Sam joked to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, you're going to scare all the chicks away," Dean countered with a poor joke of his own.

Sam looked at his older brother and didn't miss the fear that flashed in his eyes. If this was happening to someone else, to anyone other than him, he knew Dean wouldn't be so worried. He knew that he was his brother's weakness, as Dean was his.

"Go get us some food, Dean. I'm going to rest, okay?" Sam said as he eased himself back down onto the pillows.

"Forget it. I'm not leaving you alone right now," Dean insisted.

"We got to eat!" Sam said, his eyes closed now.

The pain pills were starting to work, thank God.

"Then we'll order in," Dean said as he pulled open the phone book.

"I'll be fine. Don't waste money on delivery, Dean," Sam protested.

"It's okay, Sammy. You're worth it," Dean answered.

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing. We're just getting started, so come back soon for the next chapter!**


	3. So Much Fear

**Chapter 3: So Much Fear**

"I thought you said you wanted Chinese," Dean said with his mouth full as he finished off his third plate.

Sam hadn't even eaten half a plate of food, Dean noticed. In fact, Sam looked quite green at the moment.

"You auditioning to be the next incredible hulk?" Dean asked with a smile.

Sam began to laugh and then so did Dean.

"Actually, I think the pain pills are making me nauseous," Sam answered as he put down his plastic fork and pushed away his paper plate. "I think….I need to go to the bathroom," Sam said as he stood up slowly.

Dean watched as Sam walked to the bathroom, hunched to inches below his full height. He had told Dean that hitting the tile floor in the bathroom after he was knocked out did not help his bruised back. He could almost feel Sam's pain. Ouch.

"Don't lock it, _grandpa_!" Dean called after him as he picked up the remote to watch some TV.

"Okay, _mom_," Sam said with a smile as he stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door.

Sam suddenly began to sweat, and not because of the oppressive heat. When his stomach clenched and his mouth began to water, he knew what was coming next. Fire burned down his throat and he eased himself down to the toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into it.

"Sammy?" Dean said after lightly knocking on the door. "You okay?"

"Peachy," Sam answered breathlessly. "I'll be done in a minute."

Sam knew he spoke too soon when he again vomited into the toilet. When the dry heaves finally ended, he leaned back against the wall. Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment to regain his strength.

Dean stepped away from the door and threw the remote against the wall with a bang. He wanted answers, and he wanted answers NOW. Dean's thoughts were interrupted when his EMF meter began to beep loudly from inside his open bag on the bed. He picked it up, the lights flashing bright red.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as rushed over to the bathroom door and pulled on the knob in vain.

Sam's eyes snapped open when he heard Dean yell his name. He jumped when he saw a small boy sprawled on the tile floor leaning against the wall about three feet in front of him, in an almost mirror image to how he was sitting on the floor. Speechless with shock, Sam watched as the boy's image phased in and out for a moment before finally appearing completely. The blonde haired, blue eyed boy, who Sam guessed was around five or six, wore nothing but a pair of cartoon underwear, the kind Sam remembered wearing when he was little. Sam gasped when he saw that the boy had a swollen right eye just like his. The other, full of tears, stared at him intensely. Sam watched as the boy, shaking violently now, grasped his stomach. Vomit dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sam asked gently as his stomach clenched again. Not now. Not now!

"I will hurt you," the boy whispered between sobs, his expression one of absolute terror. "I will hurt you. I WILL HURT YOU!" he screamed desperately now.

"SAM!" Dean yelled again as he rammed his shoulder into the bathroom door.

The boy's face jerked to the door before he looked back at Sam again. He continued to sob and shake as he stood and turned around. He had the same bruising on his back as Sam too!

"Wait! Please!" Sam said as he reached out his arm to him, discovering that he had little strength to do much else.

The boy walked through the bathroom wall and was gone. Sam vomited again before Dean charged into the bathroom. He knelt down to Sam, taking his face in his hands. Sam's eyes were closed and he was clammy and as white as a ghost.

"You are _too_ big for me to be hauling your ass around every five minutes! You're not five anymore, you know," Dean grumbled as he helped Sam to sit on the bed, remembering the many nights that he carried his little brother back to bed after Sam insisted that he would _definitely _this time be able to stay awake to watch the whole movie. "What happened this time? I heard yelling but I couldn't make out the words. I knew you should have taken a gun loaded with rock salt in there with you!"

"Dean, just give me a minute, okay?" Sam said as he tried to slow his racing heart and catch his quickened breath.

Now his throat burned on top of his throbbing eye and aching back. All his body wanted to do was sleep for a week, but his brain, racing with thoughts, had other ideas.

"Look, Sammy. We got to put an end to this. No more messing around," Dean said.

"I'm not messing around, Dean! I'm taking this as seriously as you are! I saw a spirit of a young boy and his injuries... they were the same as mine! That has to mean something!" Sam explained excitedly.

"What else?" Dean asked, not liking the mounting evidence of an increasing connection between Sam and the spirit.

"He was…beyond terrified of something and he kept saying 'I will hurt you," Sam explained, his voice trailing off as he looked off in the distance, lost in thought. "I tried to talk to him, but I think you scared him off."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is trying to save your ass a _bad_ thing now?" Dean asked angrily.

"No. No. That's not what I meant. But the next time he appears, I just need some time to-," Sam began to explain.

"Time for what? To have a friendly getting-to-know-you chit-chat while he simulatneously beats your head in or worse?" Dean asked sarcastically. "You will tell me everything you know about him and then we'll go ask Sal when you feel up to it." Dean decided.

"Dean-," Sam said.

"Tell…me…everything," Dean repeated.

Sam sighed.

"We should ask Sal about a boy. Five or six, I think. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Maybe died in here or was murdered," Sam said. "He had so much fear," Sam said as he shuddered again. He felt it too, somehow. Even though he didn't know why. It didn't so easily pass this time and he shuddered again. Did it feel colder in here now too? "I don't think he wanted to hurt me. It was like he was trying to tell me something," Sam said.

"Really? Because I think he was pretty clear when he said 'I will hurt you!' What, you feel sorry for him now? He's beating you to hell, Sammy! We find his bones or the cursed object or whatever the hell that's keeping him here and we move on from this place. I swear that hell can't be much worse, or hotter than here!" Dean yelled, more angry with his inability to protect his brother than at his brother's words.

Dean wiped sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt, ignoring the sweat trickling down the middle of his back for now. He knew trying to stay cool was as lost of a cause as trying to convince Sammy that talking to the evil spirit was a _very_ bad idea. He watched as Sam shook again as if…

"Are you actually cold?" Dean asked with disbelief.

Sam sighed. He did feel cold. He also felt fear and hopelessness. He realized that it _wasn't_ cold and they _weren't_ his feelings, but he _felt_ it all the same. Why? Somehow it had to be the boy's. Who was he? What did he want? Why him?

"Do you think he's somehow tuned into my psychic abilities or something?" Sam asked as he unconsciously wrapped the bed sheet around his shoulders.

It was Dean's turn to sigh now. He would be perfectly happy to send this spirit back to wherever it should be, no questions asked. Sam, on the other hand, always had to analyze everything. Everything for Sam always had to make sense, had to have a purpose.

"I don't know, Sammy. I just don't know."

"Look, Dean. I need you to talk to Sal alone, okay?"

_"What?"_

"Every time something happened, I was alone. I don't think he'll come if you're here," Sam explained.

"Good!" Dean exclaimed.

"No, _not_ good! It's the best chance we have of finding out what he wants."

"I don't care what he wants! Didn't we cover this already?" Dean said, aggravated.

"Do you trust me?" Sam asked after a moment, deciding to try a different approach.

"Sam,"

"Do you trust me?" Sam asked again.

"With my life," Dean answered.

"Then go talk to Sal. I"ll keep the gun close. I can take care of myself. I've held my own against a lot worse. I promise. Hey, if Sal's anything like the front desk guy, I think I have the better end of the deal. Don't let him cut off any of your pieces," Sam joked.

"Ha, ha," Dean said as he shook his head.

After Dean left, Sam leaned against the headboard and waited.

**It's just getting good now folks! Stay tuned for more to come soon!**


	4. The Devil Inside

**Chapter 4: The Devil Inside **

Dean pushed open the door to the lobby and stepped into the cool conditioned air. An expression of ecstasy crossed his face as he took a moment to ponder whether air conditioning or a vibrating bed was the better invention. He replaced the expression with a serious one as he scanned the area. An overweight man with a long gray braid, who Dean guessed was in his fifties, stood behind the counter sucking on a cigarette. That _had_ to be Sal. He looked like a Sal if anyone _could_ look like a Sal. Dean strode over to the man and raised his hand to ring the obnoxious bell. The man snatched the bell out from under Dean's palm and hurled it over his head. It hit the floor with a ding before sliding into the far wall. Okay, Dean thought. Unlike John, you do _not_ believe in the bell. You just earned a few points in my book.

"What?" The man asked as he turned down the volume of the country music playing from a small radio tucked into his front shirt pocket. Does not believe in good customer service either, Dean thought.

"How are you doing tonight? My name is Dean. My associate Sam and I work for the "Ghost Hunters" television show and we're scouting out new locations. Maybe John told you about us? We have reason to believe that your motel may be haunted. If we can find evidence-," Dean began.

"Television show, huh?" Sal asked as he blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

Welcome to the conversation, Dean thought as he opened his mouth to reply.

"Yes. And if we can find evidence of ghosts-," Dean started again.

"Do you know Jennifer Love Hewit?" Sal interrupted before he took another puff of his cigarette.

"What?" Dean asked, annoyed that _no one_ seemed capable of letting him finish a freaking sentence.

"The hot chick who talks to ghosts. I _like_ her," the man answered as he gestured in front of his chest to indicate a certain part of the female anatomy.

"And?" Dean asked unsure of where this conversation was going.

"I want to meet her. Can you get her here? She talks to ghosts you know," Sal repeated.

Wow, Dean thought. Wow.

"Uh, I have to do the research first and then…yeah...probably," Dean answered, creeped out by the older man's current lustful expression.

"Anything, man. _Anything_. That girl is a babe. I _like_ her," Sal reiterated.

"Have there ever been any murders here?" Dean asked, deciding to get down to it before he was stuck in conversation with Sal until _he_ was in his fifties.

"None…_reported_," Sal answered suspiciously. "You ain't a cop too, are you?"

"No, definitely not. I just thought that Jenny, that's what she likes me to call her, would like to know the history of the ghosts she's dealing with, you know?" Dean asked, hoping Sal was buying the crap he was slinging.

"Some people have gone _missing_, sure," Sal answered with a wink, thinking he was being clever.

"Yeah," Dean said. "These _missing_ people," Dean said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "any of them a young boy around five or six with blonde hair and blue eyes? Quiet. Probably skittish?" Dean guessed.

"Geez, I don't know. We get a lot of folks through here and _most_ of them are quiet and skittish," Sal answered. "This ain't exactly the Hilton, you know? People who stay here want to be left alone," Sal explained.

"Okay. Let me ask you a couple of other questions. Have any families with kids ever stayed in the room my associate and I are in? And have any strange things ever been reported as happening there?" Dean asked.

"Strange like what?" Sal asked.

"Lights flickering on and off. Disembodied voices. People seeing things that aren't really there. People getting hurt for unexplainable reasons," Dean rattled off some examples.

"Hmm. Let me think for a minute," Sal responded.

Don't hurt yourself, Dean thought.

"I do remember a few families staying in that room because it's a bit bigger and has two beds, most here only a night or two. Some longer. Like a week or two. " Sal answered. "But nothing strange reported."

Now wait just a minute, Dean thought, as his earlier conversation with Sam sprang to his memory.

_"A few of them explain how the color of the bruising can determine when it occurred. I don't know if that's important or not, but we should make note of it just in case," Sam said. "Do you want to check?"_

_"Sure, I'd love to," Dean said sarcastically as he put down his coffee and got up._

_After Sam leaned forward, he pulled up the back of his brother's shirt, unable to prevent his sharp intake of breath._

_"Dude, it looks even worse in daylight," he said as he looked at the website photos and then back at Sam's back. "I'd say a week old or so…"_

It could be nothing, but it could also be something, Dean thought.

"Doesn't mean there ain't any ghosts in that room though or…or somewhere else on the property," Sal added, as if admitting otherwise would squash his chance of meeting Jennifer Love Hewitt.

"Well, how about you let me look more into those families? Do you keep records anywhere?" Dean asked, confidant that the answer would be a resounding no.

"Of course!" Sal exclaimed, as if Dean had insulted his business practices.

Dean began to doubt his initial impression when Sal led him to a room behind the counter. Now we're getting somewhere, Dean thought. Unfortunately, after Sal pulled on a string to turn on a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, Dean's daunting task was revealed.

"Knock yourself out," Sal said as he shut the door behind him. "Just make sure you warn me when she's coming. I want to put on my good shirt and practice my moves."

The almost vomit inducing image of Sal and Jennifer Love Hewitt was quickly forgotten after Dean saw that only about half of the towering piles of dusty and moldy cardboard boxes were labeled.

"Vibrating bed. Air conditioner," Dean began to chant for inspiration as he pulled down the first box.

He wondered if Sam was faring any better with his search for information. He hoped not. He hoped that the spirit never visited Sam again. Two hours. He'd indulge Sam for two more hours before he called him to come help him search these likely useless records. Then he wouldn't let him out of his sight until this was over.

* * *

One hour. One hour had passed with no sign of the spirit of the unknown little boy. Would he not show himself any more tonight? Sam _had_ to talk to him. _Felt _compelled to talk to him, even if Dean didn't understand why. Hell, _he_ didn't even understand why. 

"It's okay. You can come out," Sam said to the empty room, deciding to take a more pro-active approach.

Nothing.

"I just want to talk to you. Please," Sam tried again as pushed off the blanket and stood, deciding to leave the gun on the bed for now as a gesture of goodwill.

Still nothing.

Sam stretched his arms over his head and decided to take a shower. He'd feel better after a shower. It would at least soothe his sore muscles and warm him up. The spirit didn't look like he was going to show himself again tonight anyway. Then he would call Dean and see if he was having any better luck with Sal.

Sam turned on the water, as hot as he could stand, and let it run for a moment. Not until he saw steam rising over the top of the curtain did he pull off his clothes and leave them in a heap by the doorway. He stepped into the shower and sighed as the hot water washed over him. It felt good, even though it stung his tender back. Even after he washed himself and his hair, he stayed under the water. He didn't turn off the faucets until the water ran cold. He pulled the white scratchy towel off of the bar and wrapped it around his waist, his skin still vibrating from the heat. He wiped the fogged up mirror clear in time to see the reflection of a long red welt appearing across his chest. He gasped and stumbled back. What was it about this bathroom? He had to get out now! He had to get his gun! Why didn't he keep his gun with him like he told Dean he would?!

_Crack!_ Sam yelped as another welt appeared on his stomach from no one that he could see. Before he could recover, three more cracked across his torso in rapid succession. When about five more quickly cracked across his back, his knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the tile floor. He gulped in air in an effort to regain his strength. A moment later, he felt a small hand take his. It was shockingly cold to the touch.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam whispered.

His vision was blurry now, but he was able to easily make out the little boy that knelt down next to him.

"I will hurt you," the boy whimpered as he put his other small hand to Sam's cheek.

Amazing how the words were always the same, but the meaning seemingly different each time. The boy wasn't apologizing for himself. Sam knew that now.

"You don't want to hurt me. You want to tell me about someone else who does. Someone who also hurts you," Sam whispered.

The boy nodded his head in confirmation.

"Who?" Sam rasped.

The boy did not answer. Instead, he pointing over Sam's shoulder before cowering against the bathroom wall, his eyes wide. Sam could have sworn he heard the sound of a belt buckle scraping against the tile floor. He knew a moment later that he was right.

"You have the devil inside of you, boy. I will hurt you until you obey. I will hurt you until you give in and submit to the will of God. I will hurt you until God tells me it is enough and grants you passage into his kingdom in heaven. Death is the _only_ other choice," Sam heard a man's voice say from behind him.

He didn't know if it a good thing or not that he couldn't see the man's face. Who was he? Why did he think the boy was evil? Sam's thoughts were interrupted when the boy rushed into the bathtub, huddled into a ball, and began to wail loudly. Sam shut his eyes. He had no doubt what was coming next...

* * *

_"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!"_

Sam woke with a start to the sound of ringing, not sure if it was in his head or coming from somewhere else. His vision cleared to see the boy standing in the corner of the room, watching him. His expression appeared to be one of sadness this time. How Sam got out of the bathroom and onto the bedroom carpet he did not know. He was sure the red welts that he saw now on the boy's bare torso matched his own. Funny how they looked as if they were healing already, just like before. That _had_ to mean something, right?

Sam struggled to reach for his clothes that were still in a heap at the doorway to the bathroom. He shakily sat up, the pain intense. After a moment, it subsided enough for him to pull off the towel and pull on his boxers and jeans.

"Don't worry. My brother will help us," Sam promised, waiting to put on his shirt until another wave of pain passed.

The boy shook his head quickly.

"You don't want me to tell my brother," Sam said more as a statement than a question.

It didn't involve his brother. His brother wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand. Would take him away from the boy. The boy would be alone again, stuck here to be tortured forever by whoever that man was. He couldn't do that. He had always been the little brother. Now he knew how Dean felt. It was _his_ turn to protect someone, to give him the peace that he deserved. He and the boy were connected. He understand why now. They were both seen by others as being evil. As needing to be saved or having to die. No gray areas. Nothing in between. His father had given Dean that difficult choice during the last conversation between them in the hospital.

_"He told me that if I couldn't save you, I'd have to kill you, Sammy..." _

Others, like the hunter Gordon Walker, saw no choice and searched for Sammy, intending to kill him with no mercy.

"I promise," Sam said with a shaky voice, knowing what had to be done.

The boy could not leave this room, but Sam could. Sam, and Sam alone, could end this. But to do that, he would have to lie to Dean until it was all over. _Then_ he would make Dean understand why. He wished it would be so easy.

_"Ring!"_

Sam jumped at the sound of his cell phone ringing. Had to be Dean. _"Ring!"_ He clutched his stomach as he crawled over to the nightstand and grabbed the cell phone. _"Ring!"_ He felt ice cold and sick, as if he could throw up again. _"Ring!"_ He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to compose himself. _"Ring!"_ The incredible pain, still washing over him in waves, made his hands shake as he held the phone up to his face.

He could do this. He's dealt with a lot worse. He could do this. He'd _told _Dean he could do this.

"Hello," Sam answered flatly.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you answer the phone before?" Dean demanded, his worry poorly disguised.

Sam thought of the boy and of his promise.

"I'm fine. He didn't show," Sam lied.

"Well, I'm not doing much better. It's going to be a big search to find any information that will help us. Why don't you give me a hand? Make yourself useful?" Dean asked, with a bit of good natured teasing thrown in.

Sam didn't answer.

"Sam?" Dean prompted.

"I'm fine," Sam repeated, having stopped paying attention for a moment and hoping that was the answer Dean was looking for.

"Never mind," Dean said, deciding to talk to Sam in person. "I'll be right there."

Sam _had_ to get out of the room. The boy's emotions that he continued to somehow feel were even more oppressive and dehabilitating than the pain. He carefully pulled on his shirt before hauling himself up by holding on to the nightstand. He stumbled outside and dropped into the rusting lawn chair to the left of the door.

"Sam?" Dean called as he walked up to his brother, needing to see for himself that he was all right.

He would not get his wish. His brother looked...he looked all wrong.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"Nnnothing," Sam answered as he looked down at his bare feet. "Why did you call? Did you find something?"

"_Nnnothing_, huh?" Dean asked.

Unconvinced, Dean pulled up Sam's shirt quickly before Sam could stop him.

Dean's mouth dropped at the new injuries that seemed to wrap around Sam like stripes on a zebra.

"What the hell, Sammy? You let that boy spirit do that to you _again_? What happened to 'I can hold my own?'" Dean asked angrily.

"Why did you call?" Sammy asked again, tears in his eyes now. "Did you find something?"

"Look at _me_, God damn it!" Dean yelled.

Sam visibly jumped at Dean's outburst, but still kept his eyes to the ground.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Dean said.

"Why did you call?" Sam asked.

Sam was finding it very difficult to concentrate. Somehow his pain, no the _boy's_ pain, was too loud. Was that even possible?

"Come inside," Dean ordered.

"Did you find something?" Sam said, having forgotten that he asked that already.

"Uh huh," Dean said as he stood back a moment and looked again at his brother.

His body began to pulse with anger or fear. Maybe a bit of both.

He had vowed to himself that he wouldn't let Sam out of his sight until this was over. Now he wondered if this being over had to mean throwing Sam over his shoulder, stuffing him into the Impala, and putting this place in their rearview mirror. It was almost as if this Sam in front of him now was _not_ the Sam that had said those words to him only a little while ago.

_"Do you trust me?" Sam asked again._

"_With my life," Dean answered._

"_Then go talk to Sal. I"ll keep the gun close. I can take care of myself. I've held my own against a lot worse..." Sam had said._

Well, Sam there's a first time for everything. Even their dad had even left a hunt once to get them away from the shtriga. Every hunter had a limit of what he was willing to sacrifice for the safety of mankind, a hand that was just too risky to play. Like his father, his was Sam's life. Unconsciously, lyrics from a Kenny Rogers song that was playing in the lobby when he was talking to Sal earlier sprang to his mind.

_"You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,  
Know when to walk away and know when to run..."_

Dean hauled Sam up by the arms and began to pull him to the Impala.

"No! Dean! NO! I can't leave him there!" Sam yelled as his legs again crumpled beneath him. "PLEASE! HE NEEDS ME!"

"He's DEAD, Sammy! He doesn't need ANYTHING anymore!" Dean yelled back as he pulled Sam back to his feet, pretending that he didn't hear the desperation in his brother's voice.

Sorry, Sammy, Dean thought to himself. I fold.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing and check back soon for the next chapter!**


	5. FINE!

_Dean hauled Sam up by the arms and began to pull him to the Impala._

_"No! Dean! NO! I can't leave him there!" Sam yelled as his legs again crumpled beneath him. "PLEASE! HE NEEDS ME!"_

_"He's DEAD, Sammy! He doesn't need ANYTHING anymore!" Dean yelled back as he pulled Sam back to his feet, pretending that he didn't hear the desperation in his brother's voice._

_Sorry, Sammy, Dean thought. I fold._

**Chapter 5: FINE!**

"Dean! _Please_, just stop for a minute! Listen to me!" Sam pleaded in a last ditch effort to change his big brother's mind.

It didn't work. Dean continued to ease Sam's uncooperative body into the passenger side of the Impala. Although Dean's touch was gentle, Sam knew that his mood was _quite_ the opposite. When Dean moved to close the door, Sam shot out his arm to stop him. Dean leaned down to inches from Sam's face and glared at him. Sam couldn't help but shrink back a bit. He felt like he was a kid again and the discipline had again been left up to Dean in their father's absence. Sam opened his mouth to continue his protest, but Dean cut him off.

"I'm going to go get our stuff and then check us out. You get out of this car and I will KNOCK your ass OUT. You got that?" Dean said with a clench of his jaw muscles.

"You wouldn't!" Sam exclaimed in disbelief.

"Look at me and tell me if I'm serious," Dean answered, his glare still unwavering from Sam's face.

After a moment of consideration, Sam pulled his arm in and crossed it with his other arm instead.

"Good boy," Dean mumbled, slamming the door so hard that it shook the car.

Sam watched as Dean stormed off. Alone, his mind raced with his options. He didn't see any viable ones at that moment. After all, he was pretty sick of being unconscious and his chest and back hurt like hell. About ten minutes later, Dean returned with their duffle bags and threw them into the trunk. The Impala shook again when he slammed it shut.

"WHAT ABOUT JENNY?" Sam heard a man yell from the doorway of the lobby.

Sam's curiosity about the man was quickly forgotten when Dean wrenched open the driver's side door. Dean got in and then slammed it shut as well, shaking the Impala for a _third_ time.

"You're not treating your baby very nicely," Sam mumbled.

"Are you talking? Because if I were you, I wouldn't be talking unless it's to tell me that you're sorry," Dean said angrily as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Why would I say that _I'm_ sorry? You're the one threatening to punch me out!" Sam reminded him, arms still crossed.

Dean peeled out of the parking lot, taking a moment of silence to try to calm himself before answering Sam. It wasn't working, not even a little.

"I SHOULD punch you out! Maybe it would knock some sense into you! You're acting nuts!" Dean yelled.

"_I'm_ acting nuts? You're the one dragging me around, running away from a hunt, and slamming doors! _That_ sounds crazy to me! Now turn around! We need to go back so we can figure this all out!" Sam insisted.

"Forget it!" Dean answered as he continued to stare straight ahead at the dark, deserted road in front of them.

Dean didn't even know where they were going, or if there was even anything worth going _to_ in this direction.

"At least pull over so we can talk about this!" Sam insisted.

"Fine, Sam. FINE!" Dean yelled as he jerked the wheel so quickly to the right that Sam fell into the door.

Dean turned off the ignition and watched as Sam righted himself, a lot more slowly than he would have liked. He also didn't like Sam's pained expression. And the fact that he was the cause of it this time. He had to get control of himself. It probably was for the best that he did pull over to the shoulder, but there was no way in hell that he was going to tell Sammy that.

"How about we talk about that, Sammy, huh?" Dean said as pulled up his little brother's shirt.

"That's not impor-," Sam started to say as he wrenched the shirt fabric out of Dean's fist.

"IF you are EVEN thinking of telling me that you're getting hurt is NOT important, just stop right there! I don't want to hear it! Maybe you don't care, but I do. So if you want to waste your breath with some lame reason of why we should go back, at least make it something…less lame!" Dean yelled.

Sam sighed and shook his head.

"Look, you don't have to go all Protective Big Brother Dean on me, okay? I can handle this on my own if you want. Just take me back there, go away, and I'll call you when it's over," Sam replied.

Dean began to laugh until he saw that his brother was actually serious.

"You know what? You are _really_ scaring me now. Alone is NOT how we work. Alone is NEVER how we worked," Dean said, his hands now tightly gripping the steering wheel as if it was that easy to keep his grip on everything else.

"I know, and it's not what I want, but I can't ignore what's happened. I understand so much more now. Of course, I'm not happy that I got hurt again either, but it was a means to that end. Let me tell you about tonight. Let me tell you why we _have_ to go back," Sam said, hoping that Dean noticed that he said _we_, not _I._

"You have FIVE minutes," Dean hissed.

"Okay," Sam said, his mind racing to organize and prioritize his thoughts.

"He has been reaching out to me this whole time, to someone like him that understands what it's like," Sam started to explain.

"What?" Dean said. "Stop talking in damn riddles already!"

"He and I are both seen by others as being evil. I…I don't know what he did, but there was this other ghost there, this gu-," Sam said.

"What_ he_ did? Like as in _you_ did something that could be seen as evil? _Nothing_ that has happened was your fault, Sammy," Dean said.

"That's not the point, Dean. I heard this other gu-," Sam began again.

Dean sighed and slammed his palms against the steering wheel, effectively cutting Sam's sentence short and making him jump.

"I am SO tired of this. You are NOT evil. Let's just get that straight, okay?" Dean said.

"Okay, fine," Sammy agreed to move the conversation along. "There was this other guy-,"

"You can't save him! But _I_ can save _you _from whatever dad was afraid of, if you don't sabotage me along the way that is," Dean said.

"I _know_ he's dead. But he can still feel! Remember Molly? You helped me to free her spirit from returning to that highway year after year to be tortured by that farmer that she accidentally killed with her car-," Sam said.

"I wasn't trying to free her, Sam. Innocent people were being killed because of her. THAT'S what I cared about. _You_ were the ONLY one that wanted to have a therapy session with her. And anyway, this boy spirit? I talked to Sal. The only one he's hurting now, or has ever, is YOU! No one's even ever reported _anything_ strange happening in that room. So our leaving now would _not_ affect anyone else," Dean clarified.

"He just wants peace, Dean. Like everyone wants. Like Molly wanted...Like I want," Sam explained. "You promised dad _and_ me to kill me if you couldn't save me. But who is here to save him?" Sam asked. "He's just a little boy."

"And you're _my_ little brother," Dean said. "Dad telling me to kill you if I couldn't save you is not the only thing that I remember him saying. It's not the only thing that's playing in my head like a broken record! Don't you let your brother out of your sight, Dean. You protect him above all else, even me, Dean. Should I go on? It's ingrained in me, Sammy! So forgive me if _I_ don't put a GHOST BEFORE YOU!" Dean yelled, tears stinging in his eyes now.

Dean jumped out of the car and slammed the door. The car shook for the fourth time. He leaned against the car as Sam slowly got out a moment later to join him.

"Look. I'm not putting a ghost before you," Sam said as he leaned against the car, winced, and then stood to face Dean instead. "It's just...I...I appreciate everything you've ever done for me. If I've never told you that before, I'm telling you now. But please, just listen to me, that's all I ask. I could really use your help, your perspective, if you'll give it to me. I don't want to do this alone, but I will if I have to. I just...I have to," Sam said.

Dean looked into Sam's eyes and shook his head. Damn sensitive kid, determined to help everyone, no matter whether they were alive or dead.

"Maybe you don't have to," Dean said finally. "Tell me about what happened tonight and then if it sounds doable, only then, I'll give you the ground rules. You got that?" Dean said with a point of his index finger to show that he meant business.

"Yeah, that sounds okay, Dean," Sam said with a smile.

When Sam finished his account of the night's events, he studied Dean's face as he waited for the verdict. He couldn't read any emotions on it. That was probably _not_ a good sign.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"I have some questions first, Sammy," Dean said.

"Shoot," Sam said, anxious to get this conversation over with and return to the motel.

"So you think that this other spirit, this guy, is actually the one inflicting the injuries on you, the same ones that he's also inflicting them on the boy spirit?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I think so, but I don't have it all figured out yet. I don't know if he's actually hurting me directly or hurting the boy and somehow I'm feeling it too," Sam answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Why would you feel something that's happened to the boy?" Dean asked in confusion.

"We know that I have visions and have felt other spirits before, like when we visited our house. Maybe my ability to feel or connect with spirits is starting to get stronger," Sam suggested.

"God, I hope not. That's all we need," Dean said. "Any ideas why there is so much activity in the bathroom?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. He could have died in there or he's tied to some object in there. Maybe it was just the other man's favorite place to attack the boy," Sam hypothesized.

"Hmm," was Dean's only answer.

Sam could see that he was losing Dean. He had to convince him to go back. He just had to!

"I think we should first go back and search the records. Then...talk to Doris as soon as possible. Can you _at least_ let me do that? Please. Dean. I _need_ to know what he's trying to tell me," Sam said as he again watched his brother's face.

"You need to, huh? Well," Dean said, before taking a pause that seemed at least ten minutes long to Sam. "You promise me that you will NOT set foot inside that room again without me?" Dean asked.

"Yes. Yes. I can do that. And you promise me that you won't knock my ass out?" Sam said, saying the last sentence in his best impression of his macho older brother.

Dean pushed Sam lightly on the shoulder and smiled. Sam smiled to, knowing that it was Dean's way of saying yes. They both got back into the car and Dean turned the key in the ignition.

"Let's just stay in another motel for tonight, so we can at least get one good night's sleep. Then we'll go back to Bates motel in the morning. Maybe we'll find his mommy in a rocking chair somewhere. Force her to answer our questions," Dean joked.

"Ha, ha," Sam said with a smile. "We can go back tonight and stay in another room if there's one available, I don't think they can leave our old one."

"You don't _think_?" Dean asked.

"Okay, okay. We'll stay somewhere else tonight if you want, but I'll be happy sleeping anywhere, thanks to the pain pills that I'll be downing," Sam said as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

As Dean drove on, Sam began to feel odd. When he felt as though ice had been injected into his veins, he knew why.

"Dean," Sam gasped as he looked in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"The backseat." Sam whispered.

It was Dean's turn to gasp as he glanced in the rearview mirror at the reflection of the bright blue eyes of a young boy's pale face crowned by glowing blonde hair.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing and check back soon for the next hopefully exciting chapter!**


	6. Numbers

_As Dean drove on, Sam began to feel odd. When he felt as though ice had been injected into his veins, he knew why._

"_Dean," Sam gasped as he looked in the rearview mirror._

"_Yeah?" Dean asked._

"_The backseat." Sam whispered._

_It was Dean's turn to gasp as he glanced in the rearview mirror at the reflection of the bright blue eyes of a young boy's pale face crowned by glowing blonde hair._

**Chapter 6: Numbers **

Dean felt the familiar burst of adrenaline shoot threw his veins as he again wrenched the wheel to the right and abruptly parked the Impala at the side of the road. All was quiet inside the car as Dean looked into the rearview mirror again. There were no words to describe how creepy it was to finally see the spirit of the little boy for himself, complete with injuries that looked to be replicas of Sam's. Or were Sam's replicas of his?

"Dean?" Sam whispered in a frightened voice that Dean would have not have expected to hear from him.

_That_ made _Dean_ frightened.

"He's coming!" Sam and the boy spirit said simultaneously.

"Get out of the car now!" Dean yelled as he pushed open his door.

Before Dean could himself get out of the car, his door flew closed and he felt an unseen force slam him back against the seat. Suddenly, Dean heard a crash to his right and turned away from the noise just in time to shield himself from a spray of glass. Dean turned back quickly to check on his brother and saw that Sam was being pulled out of the hole where the passenger door window used to be. Dean pulled on Sam's legs, but was again pressed against the seat. He yelled in frustration as Sam slipped through his grip.

"DEAN!" Dean heard Sam yell his name.

"Sam! It won't let me out!" Dean yelled to let his brother know why he wasn't coming to his aid.

Dean wrestled against the force, but was helpless to do anything but listen to the grunts and yelps of his brother. He yelled again in frustration, unable to see what was going on.

"You have the devil inside of you, boy! I will hurt you until you give in and submit to the will of God! Death is the _only_ other choice!" Dean heard a man yell .

"Leave him alone!" Dean yelled back, but was met with no answer.

Dean looked into the rearview mirror again and saw that the boy spirit was still sitting in the backseat. He was crying now with his mouth open wide, although no sound was coming out that Dean could hear. Dean watched as new gashes and bruises appeared on the pale little body. Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to see anymore. He couldn't stand to see anymore. It was _killing_ him. Sam was being tortured for God knows why by God knows what. And he could do nothing. He began yelling for Sam over and over, desperate for any response from his little brother. When Sam stopped answering back or making any noise at all, he began to count. One…two…three. After what Dean guessed was about five minutes, he jumped when blood splattered the driver's side window before Sam's face slammed against the glass. Dean was able to see that Sam's eyes were closed and his nose was gushing with blood. After Sam's body slid down and out of view, the ghost of a man standing behind him was revealed. When the ghost disappeared seconds later, the pressure on Dean's chest was instantly released. Dean jolted forward, unaware that he had been unconciously pressing that hard against the force. He turned around to look at the back seat and saw the boy spirit was gone as well. Quicker than he thought possible, Dean flew across the seat to exit out the passenger side, so as to not hit Sam with his door. He ran around to find Sam slumped on the pavement in front of the driver's side door.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he knelt down next to him to assess his brother's condition.

He was unconscious, but had a strong pulse and breathing steadily. Dean wished he could switch places with Sam at that moment, as he had previously wished during every other moment when his brother was in physical or emotional pain. He would much rather feel it than see it in his brother. Hands down.

He hauled his brother around to the other side of the car to pull him onto the patch of grass. He paused a moment to catch his own breath and calm his nerves. He didn't want Sam to see him like this. He had an image to protect after all.

"Hey. Sam. Come on. Wake up," Dean said while he gently shook Sam's shoulders.

Sam's groan was like music to Dean's ears.

"Open your eyes," Dean prompted him.

Sam's body felt stiff with pain and screamed at him to sleep, to go back to the darkness. However, Dean wanted him to wake up and he didn't want to disappoint his brother. In the end, he opened his eyes to see Dean looking at him with worried eyes. He didn't like making Dean worry.

"Thank God nothing is broken. Jeez, good thing you're like the Energizer bunny," Dean said, attempting a joke. "Takes a licking and keeps on-,"

"Ticking," Sam finished, cracking a small smile on his face that was partially covered in dried blood, much to Dean's relief.

"Let's get you into the car, okay? I won't yell at you about the window your ghost friend smashed or make you wash the blood off of my baby until I'm sure you're up to it. Now don't make it worse and bleed on my seat," Dean said as he helped a wobbly Sam into the passenger side of the car while at the same time brushing the glass off of the seat cushion.

He watched Sam close his eyes and then open them quickly as if just remembering what Dean had told him about waking up. Dean hurridly retrieved the first aid kit out of the trunk and returned to his brother.

"What happened out there Sammy?" Dean asked, not surprised to see that the new cuts and bruising already looked days old, just like the others had.

He handed Sam a couple of pain pills. Sam didn't even bother with water this time before taking them and swallowing.

"It was the ghost of the man who attacked me before, but this time I got a good look at him," Sam answered. "I'd guess he was only a few years older than you. About six feet tall. Caucasian. Shoulder length light brown hair. Blue eyes. Reminded me of the boy's eyes. He had to be related to him. Father or brother or something. I didn't notice tatoos or other distinguishing marks as far as I could tell. But then again, my attention was mostly focused on his fist that he kept hitting me with."

"I saw him too and the kid, of course. What else?" Dean asked.

"He again said that I have the devil inside of me. That he will hurt me until I obey and submit to the will of God. That death is the _only_ other choice," Sam said.

"Yeah, I heard that much," Dean said. "Anything that will help us make some sense of what's going on?"

"Right before I lost conciousness, he grabbed my face and whispered something else in my ear," Sam stopped before he finished his sentence.

"What, Sammy?" Dean prompted him.

"He said if he couldn't save me, he would have to kill me," Sam said. "Dad told you the same thing about me, remember?"

Dean sighed. How could he forget? He thought about it every morning when he got up and every night when he went to bed.

"Dean, that _can't_ just be a coincidence," Sam said when Dean didn't immediately answer him.

"Look, I don't know what the ghost meant or what dad meant. I do know that no one is killing you. _That_ I know," Dean answered. "Let's just focus on what the hell to do now. How to get these spirits off of our asses permanently and you can psychoanalyze it all later, okay? You can't take much more of this and I...I can't either," Dean said, stating the obvious.

"We might as well go back to the motel. There's no where we can go that they can't go. He's tied to me. We know that much," Sam answered in a strained voice as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

He wished the pain pills would start working _now_.

They were both silent for a moment when headlights from an oncoming car flashed through the driver's side window, briefly illuminating it. For the first time, Dean saw that something was hastily written in Sam's blood that had splattered on the window.

"What the hell?" Dean said as he got out of the car to inspect the window.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked in confusion after opening his eyes.

"There are numbers written on the window. Uh. 4...8...4...7...1," Dean read to Sam.

Both were silent again as they pondered what the numbers signified and which of the ghosts had written it there. Noticing how low it was scrawled on the window, Dean guessed it was the boy spirit.

"7-14-84," Sam blurted out quickly.

"What?" Dean said after he leaned back into the car.

"7-14-84. The numbers are a date," Sam said as he shifted in his seat for the hundredth time before groaning again.

"How do you know?" Dean asked as he sat back in the car and shut the door.

"I just...I just do," Sam said. "Dean, that's tomorrow's date."

"Yeah, I know. The twenty third anniversary of tomorrow's date," Dean clarified.

"It could be the day the boy died. Or the day something else horrific happened. He obviously wanted us to know that date. Wanted us back at the motel _tonight_. It's all been building up to this. Whatever the reason is, it's going down tomorrow," Sam said.

"I know. Guess we can't forget about that crap hole just yet. Well, one person will be happy to see us back at the motel," Dean said as he thought of Sal and turned the key in the ignition. "This time, he is _so_ giving us the room for free."

**If you liked what you read, please take a sec to review! Check back soon for the next chapter!**


	7. Everything Was Wrong

"_7-14-84. The numbers are a date," Sam said as he shifted in his seat for the hundredth time before groaning again._

"_How do you know?" Dean asked as he sat back in the car and shut the door._

"_I just...I just do," Sam said. "Dean, that's tomorrow's date."_

_"Yeah, I know. The twenty third anniversary of tomorrow's date," Dean clarified._

_"It could be the day the boy died. Or the day something else horrific happened. He obviously wanted us to know that date. Wanted us back at the motel __tonight__. It's all been building up to this. Whatever the reason is, it's going down tomorrow," Sam said._

_"I know. Guess we can't forget about that crap hole just yet. Well, one person will be happy to see us back at the motel," Dean said as he thought of Sal and turned the key in the ignition. "This time, he is __so__ giving us the room for free."_

**Chapter 7: Everything Was Wrong**

The short car ride back to the motel was already feeling painfully quiet to Dean. There was so much he could say to his little brother, wanted to say, but…wouldn't say. _Don't think I didn't notice that there was fear behind your words, in your eyes, Sammy. Don't think I didn't see the shake in your hands before you shoved them into your pockets just now. From what? Pain? Fear? Cold? Maybe a mixture of them all. It's not your fault, none of it is. I wish you could know that like I do. Don't worry. I'll take care of it. If this is going down tomorrow, whatever it is, I'll make sure that it will end with the spirits gone and you alive and well. I promise, _Dean silently vowed as he clenched his jaw and hit the gas pedal.

At the Impala's sudden increase in speed, Sam looked over at Dean before he closed his eyes again. The rush of hot air coming from the space where the passenger door window used to be felt good on his face, but did little to slow the thoughts that continued to race through his mind. _Don't think I didn't notice there was fear behind your words, in your eyes, Dean. Don't think I didn't realize that you're already blaming yourself, like you always do when something bad happens to me. It's not your fault, none of it is. I wish you could know that like I know do. Don't worry, Dean. I'll take care of it. If this is going down tomorrow, whatever it is, I'll make sure that it will end with the spirits gone and you alive and well. I promise, _Sam silently vowed as Dean sped into the motel's parking lot.

When Dean quickly pulled into a parking space in front of the lobby, Sam finally decided to speak some words that he could say, _needed_ to say.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, not loud enough to break into Dean's thoughts. "Dean! I said I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dean asked distractedly as he turned off the ignition and reached for the car door handle.

"For your car," Sam answered.

Dean shook his head and stepped out without another word, closing the car door behind him.

"For everything," Sam whispered before the familiar fog of the pain pills overtook him once again.

* * *

Cold. He felt so _freezing_ cold. Without even opening his eyes, Sam felt around him until his hand grasped fabric. He pulled it up to his chin, dismissing the impulse to hide underneath it entirely as he did when he was very little. When he still believed that if you couldn't see the bad things, then they couldn't see you. Couldn't get you. Unfortunately, now that Sam was awake, his chattering teeth and stiff muscles preventing him from returning to the unconscious bliss of sleep. With a soft moan, Sam slowly sat up in bed and looked around their motel room that was now brightened with morning sunlight. He vaguely remembered Dean helping him into the room and onto his bed last night while he listened to Deam tell him that he did get their old room for free this time. Sam looked around for his brother and quickly found him sleeping sitting up in a metal folding chair in front of the door. He smiled at the sight of his brother still holding his shot gun tightly in his hand. Guess he _really_ wanted to make sure that Sam didn't make any unannounced outings. Sam smiled again when he saw that Dean had actually taken off the bathroom door and leaned it against the closet. Guess Dean also wanted to make sure that he wouldn't get stuck in there again. Sam spun his legs around and put his bare feet on the carpet, immediatley feeling something grainy beneath them. Rock salt. Dean had also made a salt circle around his bed. Dean must really be scared this time, although Sam knew he would never admit it to him. Sam wondered if Dean would have let him take all of these precautions if the spirits were after him instead. He doubted it and he again quickly thanked God for his big brother. Sure Dean tried his patience at times, but he knew that Dean would do _anything_ to keep him safe. 

"Sammy?" Dean managed to say before he succumbed to a big yawn. "You okay?"

"Yyyeah," Sam stammered, unable to stop his chattering teeth. "Is the aaair ccconditioning wwworking nnnow or sssomething?"

Dean stood, his rifle still in hand, and walked over to Sam.

"Does it look like the a.c. is on in here?" Dean said as he pulled on his damp t-shirt. "It's a freakin' sauna in here, dude!"

"Mmmy bbback dddoesn't rrreally hhhurt aaanymore, Dean," Sam said, hoping to improve Dean's mood.

"Oh yeah? Let me see," Dean demanded as he lifted Sam's t-shirt, the already scorching temperature making his temper _very_ short.

"Hmm. The bruising on your back from the first night are completely gone. I don't get it," Dean said in frustration as he pulled Sam's t-shirt back down and walked around to face Sam again. "It healed a hell of a lot faster than it should have. You know what? I think your eye looks better too. Too bad most of the rest of your face, courtesy of last night's events, doesn't."

Sam locked eyes with his brother for a moment and didn't like what he saw in them. He couldn't help the next question that came out of his mouth. He had to hear the answer from Dean with his own ears.

"Do yyyou ssstill tttrust mmme wwwith yyyour lllife?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean barked as he grabbed his zippered sweatshirt from his duffle bag on his still made bed next to them and tossed it at Sam.

"Do yyyou ssstill tttrust mmme wwwith yyyour lllife?" Sam repeated.

"Just…just get ready to get to work, will you? Stop asking me stupid questions" Dean answered before he walked towards the bathroom.

Sam eased his arms into the sweatshirt and pulled the zipper up as far as it could go as he tried to process what had just happened. Dean _didn't_ trust him anymore? He didn't blame him though. How could he help the boy spirit if he couldn't even help himself? He could feel it now that everything was wrong. Everything was all wrong. He _had_ to fix it. He was the only one that _could_ fix it. The boy spirit's and Dean's faith in him depended on it.

* * *

"Dean, do I _have_ to wear this?" Sam asked as he and Dean entered the lobby. 

Dean smiled again at the sight of his brother wearing the "I Love Hunting" trucker's hat that he got him from the motel's tiny gift shop last night.

"For the hundreth time, yes! I thought you'd like that the height of it won't squash that oh so dashing hairstyle of your's and that the mesh material in the back alllows for the proper ventilation," Dean answered sarcastically.

Sam's trademark glare was his only response.

"Look, we have to at least try to hide your face somehow. Wearing that sweatshirt during a heat wave in July is making you stand out enough as it is. It's kind of fitting actually, don't you think? Might even get Bobby and some of our other hunter friends one for Christmas. Just be happy I didn't get you the one that said 'I'm not as think as you drunk I am,'" Dean said. "Now stop being a baby and go sit down!"

With a sigh, Sam walked away while Dean walked over to John again.

"Hey, John," Dean said with a false cheeriness after he dinged the front desk bell.

After Sam sat down at a table in the corner, he looked around and noticed that none of the other seven people in the lobby eating breakfast seemed to notice him. If they did, they sure didn't seem like they cared. The one and only perk of this awful place. Those _out of place_ everywhere else actually _fit in_ here. Maybe he should stick around here. He sure didn't feel like he fit in anywhere else lately. Well, maybe he never really did. Dean was the charmer. Their father was too. He was the one who was different. The supernatural freak. The one who needed protecting. Where would he be without Dean? Dead like the boy? Sam watched as Dean smiled and talked, talked and smiled. Dean slipped a bill across the counter and John handed Dean a key. Dean gave Sam a thumbs up sign before he walked over to a table covered with another pathetic spread of breakfast food. Sam sat up straighter and willed himself not to shake as Dean approached the table.

"Here," Dean said as he dropped a paper plate with a bagel and a packet of cream cheese down on the table in front of Sam. He held a paper plate with three donuts in his other hand. "Got the master key from John again. Says the same rules apply as yesterday. Yipee. Eat up."

As Dean sat down, Sam looked at the bagel and he felt repulsed. He pushed it away and shrunk down into his seat while Dean wolfed his first donut down in two bites.

"You're not saying anything _and_ you're not going to eat either? I would've left you in the room if I thought nothing would happen to you there. Eat the damned bagel, will you?" Dean said more harshly than he meant.

Where did that come from? Why was he feeling this anger toward his little brother now? The heat. It had to be the heat. Nothing that happened had been Sammy's fault. Nothing had ever been his fault. Right? Yes, right. What the hell was he thinking? He was just so damned exhausted. Hot and exhausted.

Sam looked quickly at Dean and then pulled the paper plate back toward him. He spread on a small bit of cream cheese onto the bagel with the white plastic knife and took a bite. He felt like he was eating Styrofoam. But he ate it anyway. All of it. If it made Dean feel better, it was the least he could do. Dean shook his head in approval and they ate the rest of their meal in silence. When Dean was finished, he stood and gave Sam a look that Sam knew meant _Get your ass up, it's time to work_. Sam obliged and followed behind Dean. Still no one seemed to notice him. Didn't he matter to _anyone_ anymore?

But someone did notice Sam. An older woman watched as the pair walked across the lobby, behind the desk, and through the door to the file room.

"John, who are those two?" she asked after she wheeled her cart up to the front desk.

"Room thirty two," he answered without looking up from his newspaper.

"Room thirty two? Since when does Sal let people book _that_ room? I told him-," she asked.

"I could give a rat's ass. If you have to know, Sal wanted to make some cash and those two wanted a deal on a room. Just get moving if you want to keep your job, will ya?" John advised.

"What's their story?" she asked, ignoring him.

John sighed, but answered her anyway. Doris had earned his respect a long time ago.

"Some kind of t.v. people. Think the place is haunted. Crazy, huh? But hey, they slipped me a fifty yesterday _and_ today and Sal's all reved up about it. Thinks it'll get him a date," John answered with a snicker.

John would have seen her face go pale if he had been looking. No way could this be a coincidence. She knew what today was. She had tried so hard to keep that room uninhabited. To keep people away from what had happened so many years ago. Something she had wanted to forget and hoped was over. But one look at the tall boy and she knew instantly that it may be starting all over again.

"T.V. people? Are you kidding me? Here? Please," she said suspciously.

"Look, go whine to Sal about it. Like I said, I could give a rat's ass either way. Why are even here today anyway?" John asked as he finally looked up from his paper.

"Jeanie called off," she answered.

"Your lucky day," he said sarcastically before he looked back down to his paper

The woman sighed.

"Well, it sure as hell isn't their's," she mumbled.

"Eh," he said as he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Go talk to them then, for all I care. Just make it quick and don't mess this up or Sal will kill you. Hell, I may even help him."

"I'd like to see you two try," she answered unimpressed as she maneuvered around him and into the file room

"I demmand that you tell me who you are! What do you two want?" she asked the pair, although she was looking only at Sam.

"One question at a time, okay ma'am?" Dean said to the woman, turning on his charm. "We're from the show _Ghost Hunters_ and-," Dean began to recite, having the speech down quite well now.

"Save your lies for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb at the front desk. Tell me the truth or I'll make sure John has a crack at you before Sal throws your asses out. What's _left_ of them anyway."

As he considered his answer, Dean studied the woman's face. He guessed she was in her late fifties, although her creased face and voice deepened by too much smoking aged her. Her hazel eyes had a hard look to them. She wore a dingy pink maid's uniform and her dark brown hair streaked with grey was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"Okay, okay" Dean answered after he decided that maybe she could be a good source of information to help them.. "But I'm warning you that you'll think we're crazy."

"Try me," she said as she leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. And we think the motel is haunted," Dean stated simply.

"Nice to meet you," she said sarcastically," but John already told me that. What else?" she demmanded.

When she didn't laugh or threaten to drive them to a place with a rubber room, it was Dean's turn to be surprised. Wait a minute, Dean thought as he recalled his first conversation with John.

"Is your name-," Dean began to ask.

"Doris," Sam finished Dean's question.

"Yeah, that's right. Who told you that?" she asked as she stepped closer to Sam. "And what the hell happened to you?"

"My brother has made some new friends here, but they don't like to play nice. Spirits actually. A man and a boy. Do you know anything about that?" Dean asked.

He was still unsure if telling her anything was the right thing to do, but he did know that getting tossed from the motel property would likely mean something _very_ bad for Sam. Doris sighed and shook her head as she turned to leave.

"You know something, don't you? What happened here? To them?" Sam asked gently.

She looked back at Sam, tears in her eyes now.

"If you had even half a brain between the two of you, you would get the hell out of that room, out of this motel, hell...out of this _state_," Doris answered.

"_Please_," Dean said. "Look at my brother. We think something is going to happen sometime today and unless we find out about them, about what happened here, my brother could get hurt again or…or worse. They won't let him leave here. Believe me, we tried," Dean explained.

"I can't talk about it now. I got to get back to work," she said. "Start with the file box in the far right corner on the very bottom of the stack. I'll check back with you in your room on my lunch break about 11:30," she said.

She gave Sam one final look, one that seemed apolgetic to Sam, and left.

"Well. Who would have thought the truth could actually _help_ us in an investigation? I have to remember to try that more often. Although it won't _nearly_ be as much fun," Dean said as he headed for the stack that Doris had identified.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing another chapter. Happy holidays, my super readers!**


	8. Two Names

"_Please," Dean said. "Look at my brother. We think something is going to happen sometime today and unless we find out about them, about what happened here, my brother could get hurt again or…or worse. They won't let him leave here. Believe me, we tried," Dean explained._

"_I can't talk about it now. I got to get back to work," Doris said. "Start with the file box in the far right corner on the very bottom of the stack. I'll check back with you in your room on my lunch break about 11:30," she said._

_She gave Sam one final look, one that seemed apologetic to Sam, and left._

_"Well. Who would have thought the truth could actually help us in an investigation? I have to remember to try that more often. Although it won't be nearly as much fun," Dean said as he headed for the stack that Doris had identified._

**Chapter 8: Two Names**

"Research," Dean said with a grimace as he pulled down the large box from the top of the stack in the far right corner that stood a few feet taller than him and gently put it down on the floor. "Definitely my _least_ favorite part of this job."

When Dean pulled down the next large box without Sam helping him again, he dropped it to the floor in annoyance. He turned to find his little brother standing as still as a statue and staring at something just to the right of Dean.

"Sam, a little help here?" Dean prompted him.

When Sam still didn't move or give any other response to acknowledge that he had even _heard_ him, Dean shoved him lightly on the shoulder. Sam stumbled back a bit, but righted himself quickly. However, the distracted, far-away look remained in his eyes.

"What's your problem now? What are you looking at?" Dean demanded as he scanned the area around them, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Sam locked eyes with Dean for a moment before returning his gaze to its earlier spot.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

"He doesn't like you," Sam said finally, his eyes returning to look at Dean.

"What the hell are you talking about? Who?" Dean asked in confusion as he threw his hands in the air.

"The spirit boy," Sam answered quietly as he wrapped his arms around himself and visibly shivered. "I still don't know his name."

"Okay. So I _shouldn't_ count on his vote when I run for student body president?" Dean responded sarcastically. "When did this conversation happen? You haven't left my side for a minute."

"Just a few seconds ago. He was standing right next to you," Sam answered as he rubbed his eyes with shaking hands.

Sam was still _so_ tired. Without warning, Dean shoved a startled Sam against the nearby wall, grabbed his sawed off shot gun loaded with rock salt, and stood protectively in front of his little brother.

"Where is he? Is the other one here too?" Dean asked as he looked around.

"He's not here anymore," Sam said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean stepped away from his little brother and again leaned the gun back against the wall.

"Goodie! Wouldn't want his feelings to get hurt by hearing us talk about him! What else did he say? And why the hell didn't you warn me?" Dean yelled, anger flashing in his eyes.

Sam shrugged.

"He wasn't going to hurt you or me! He looked _so_ scared! Scared and worried about me," Sam explained defensively. "All he said was that he didn't like you because you're like someone else."

"You got to be kidding me! Scared and worried about you, huh? Because I'm like someone else? Who? No, wait. Let me guess. I'm like the other spirit guy that keeps beating the crap out of you, right?" Dean asked.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean cut him off.

"And another burning question is why couldn't I see him this time? You _sure_ he was here?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"What are you getting at?" Sam asked, confused about where this conversation was going.

"I think that this is about _you_. About _you_ not liking me right now."

"I don't understand, Dean!" Sam answered, until a thought hit him. "Do you think I'm making this up?"

"Exactly. You're mad at me because I couldn't save you from him and he hurt you over and over again," Dean responded, jabbing a finger towards Sam with every word.

"Dean! No! That's not right!" Sam implored

"No, Sammy. No! I get it. Hell, I even agree with you. I messed up. I got cocky thinking I could take on anyone or anything. I was wrong. I was unprepared and you paid the price," Dean said, turning away from his brother now.

"I did see him! Please! Dean, I don't think any of that about you! Don't do this to yourself!" Sam insisted.

"Do what? Say what we've both been thinking? I'm sorry, Sammy. All right? I didn't say it before because I was ashamed. Ashamed that it happened and I had no way to keep it from happening again. But now," Dean said as he pointed at the box. "this I can do. I can find a way to help you. Make it up to you. I'm not giving up on this. No way. I need you to believe in me."

"Dean, listen to me," Sam said as he walked around Dean to look him in the eye. "I _don't_ blame you. There was nothing you could have done. I _know_ that and I wish you could believe that too. I know that you will _always_ look out for me. I don't expect you to be my protector! I-."

"Just drop it Sam! I don't want to talk about this anymore!" Dean snapped. "Just help me get the rest of these boxes down, okay?" Dean asked, more calmly this time.

Sam watched his big brother for a moment, still shocked at what he had just heard come out of Dean's mouth. Dean joked a lot, but he took a lot to heart too. Sam wanted to talk more, but he knew Dean was done with this conversation for now. Silence separated them for the time being, and Sam prayed it was only temporary. With a sigh, Sam pulled off the next large box, trying not to let it show how much the weight of it hurt him. A few moments later, they had reached the last box. The brothers stared down at it and then glanced at each other. This was it. The box that could hold the key, or at least a start, to finding the answers for which they were looking.

"Let's just concentrate on getting through these papers. Just…just tell me if you get another visit from Casper, okay?" Dean asked as he sat down on one of the boxes.

"Okay, Dean. Yeah," Sam agreed breathlessly as he sat down on a nearby box.

"And you're okay right?" Dean asked, not failing to notice Sam's far less than usual endurance.

"Ready to work," Sam said with a smile.

"Here we go," Dean said as he tossed off the lid.

Inside the large box, they saw what looked like a compact unorganized mess of receipts, papers, and other miscellaneous crap. Without another word, Dean sat down on one of the large boxes and pulled out a handful of papers. Sam did the same. After a couple of hours and enough paper to surely equal quite a few trees, Dean found something that he thought could be _very _significant. On the very bottom of the box were three leather bound guest ledgers. All from 1984. One for March, one for June… and one for July! Thank you, Doris, Dean thought. It would have taken them weeks to go through all of these stacks of large boxes if she hadn't directed them to this one. They likely didn't even have _one_ day left, much less weeks.

"Sam," Dean said as he held up the ledger

After Sam looked up from his crumpled paper, Dean began to speak again.

"It's the guest ledger from July, 1984. You want to look up the fourteenth or should I?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed.

"I'll do it," Sam said. "I should do it."

Dean handed Sam the ledger. As Sam ran his hand over the worn brown leather, he could have sworn the air temperature dropped. He looked up, but saw no one but Dean looking at him. Was the boy spirit here somewhere too? Watching and hoping that they would find something?

"Well?" Dean prompted impatiently.

Sam looked at Dean and then opened the ledger. He flipped through the pages until he found the page for the fourteenth. It was blank! No one had checked in or out on that day. At least no one that was recorded.

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said dejectedly.

"Don't give up so quickly, Sammy," Dean said in encouragement. "Start with the beginning of July. Look for two males staying in our room."

Slowly, Sam turned back page after page until he was almost at the page for the beginning of July. None of them listed two males in room thirty two. Sam was ready to dismiss the next page as well until he read two names. A feeling in his stomach told him that it was them. He didn't know _how_ he knew, but he did. Two males. Joshua Keller and Josh Keller. Room thirty two. Checked in on Sunday, July 1st. They didn't check out in July. How long had they stayed here? Sam began to check August as well, when Dean snatched the ledger out of his hands.

"You got something?" Dean asked.

"July 1st," Sam managed to speak.

As Sam watched Dean flip to the page and then study it, the name ran over and over in Sam's mind. Josh. Josh. Josh. The boy's name was Josh.

"Keller. Keller," Dean mumbled. "Wait! I remember seeing that name!"

Dean put the ledger on the floor and leaned down to rifle through his pile of discarded papers.

"Here!" Dean said triumphantly as he held up a pale yellow check.

It had a yellowing piece of white paper stapled to it with the word "BOUNCED" in large black letters.

"We have an address now too. Geez, they were pretty far from home. I wonder if they were running _from_ something or _to_ something. Let's get back to our room. See if we can find out anything else about them using the laptop before our meeting with Doris," Dean said as he hastily shoved the papers from his pile and Sam's pile back into the box.

Dean put the lid back onto the box and stood. After he and Sam restacked the boxes, Dean again noticing that Sam did so a lot more slowly than usual, Dean headed for the door. As Dean said a few words of goodbye to John, Sam lingered in the doorway for a moment.

"I'm going to figure it out and make it right, Josh. I promise," Sam said quietly, although he still did not see the boy spirit anywhere in the room.

He was sure the spirit of little Josh could hear him somehow anyway.

* * *

Sam sat on his bed while Dean sat at the table and pounded away at the laptop. Normally he would have been the one at the laptop, but Sam knew Dean needed to do this, even though Sam knew that nothing Dean could do could really end this. This was about _him_. Him _and_ the boy. 

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed victoriously. "Listen to this! Thank God this newspaper has old editions available on-line. This article is dated December 14, 1979."

Sam turned to face Dean as his big brother read from the laptop's screen.

_**House fire victim's death ruled accident by coroner**_

_From our news staff_

_Tuscaloosa, AL__- __The Tuscaloosa County coroner's office Tuesday issued one certificate of accidental death for a 22-year-old woman who died in a fire in her house near the Jefferson County line. _

Arlene M. Keller was killed when flames broke out in the second-floor nursery of her home that she shared with her husband and six- month-old twins, one boy and one girl, about 1:00 AM Sunday, investigators said.

A determination of the exact cause of death is pending results of toxicology tests, Chief Deputy Coroner Eric Bieber said.

Fire officials and family members said that Keller's husband, Joshua R. Keller, 23, was in bed when the fire broke out. Neighbors stated that Keller first pulled his six month old twins from the burning home at his wife's insistence. Fire officials prevented him from re-entering the home for her.

_Arlene M. Keller was pronounced dead at the scene. Joshua R. Keller was taken to Bryce Hospital before being released a few hours later with no injuries. The twins were air lifted to Tuscaloosa Children's Hospital where they are currently listed in very serious condition. _

_The fire was centered on the nursery's ceiling above both of the twins' cribs between which Arlene Keller may have been standing when it erupted, said Esra N. Hoover, chief of Red Rose Fire Company. _

Hoover said the fire was contained to the nursery and the two flanking rooms. He estimated damage at $30,000.

A state police fire marshal is investigating, but faulty electrical wiring is the assumed cause. 

"Well, I don't think there is _any_ doubt now that the yellow eyed demon is tied up in this. Josh's mom died in a nursery fire, just like ours, _and_ her kids were six months old at the time," Dean concluded.

"Any articles to say what happened to the family after the fire?" Sam asked, his worst fears confirmed.

"Yeah. One more," Dean said before he began to read from the laptop screen again.

_**Infant's Death At Tuscaloosa Children's Hospital**_

_Published: December 21, 1979_

_A 6-month-old girl, Jill L. Keller, was pronounced dead at Tuscaloosa Children's Hospital early today as a result of injuries sustained during a house fire one week ago that also claimed the life of her 22- year-old mother, Arlene M. Keller. Her twin brother, Joshua T. Keller Jr., who also sustained similar injuries in the fire, is listed in good condition. Her father, Joshua R. Keller, 23, who was also home at the time of the fire, was unharmed. _

_Dr. Anthony Jacob who treated Baby Jill and continues to treat Baby Joshua stated that,_

"_Baby Jill gave a good fight, but was unable to overcome her severe injuries. However, as fast as her condition worsened, her brother Joshua has made extraordinary progress. He's a very special little boy."_

_The father of the twins declined to comment on his daughter's death but did confirm that he does not plan to return to the home that he shared with his family prior to the fire. _

"_My boy is all that I have left. If he gets better, we will find a new life far away from here." _

_Details of the funeral are being withheld at this time._

"That's it. I can't find anything else. So what's running through that head of yours?" Dean asked as Sam looked lost in thought. "Is it important that the little girl died while the boy lived? Also, what happened to change the father from a loving one to one who beat his kid?"

"I don't know, Dean. I don't know," Sam said, shaking again.

This time it wasn't from being cold.

When a loud knock sounded from the other side of the motel room door, Sam and Dean both knew that further discussion would have to wait. Doris was here.

**Thanks for being patient for this update and for taking the time to review. I am trying to work on three stories at once while planning my wedding for June (not to mention that pesky thing called work)! Check back soon for the next chapter! **


	9. Just Let Me Be

"_That's it. I can't find anything else. Doris will be here soon anyway. So what's running through that head of yours?" Dean asked as Sam looked lost in thought. "I mean it has to be important that she died and the boy lived? Also, what happened to change the father from a loving one to one who beat his kid?"_

_When a loud knock sounded from the other side of the motel room door, Sam and Dean both knew that further discussion would have to wait. Doris was here._

**Chapter 9: Just Let Me Be **

Dean locked eyes with Sam when the loud knock sounded again.

"Guess it's q and a time," Dean declared as he stood up. "Although I would rather it be _t _and_ a_ time with a hot chick."

"Uh huh," Sam agreed distractedly, Dean's joke lost on him.

"Snap out of it, will you?" Dean advised as he walked over to the door.

Dean's hand was barely on the knob when the lock turned and the door was shoved open. Dean quickly restored his balance to see an annoyed looking older woman tucking a key into the front pocket of her maid's uniform.

"Finally! Thought_ I'd_ be dead before you two let me in," she remarked as she manuevered around Dean to sit in one of the chairs at the table.

"Come on in," Dean said pointlessly before joining her at the table.

All three of them shared looks now, each waiting for someone to get the real conversation started. Dean was first to open his mouth, intending to break the ice with one of his usual sarcastic jokes, but decided against it. Sam next opened his mouth to ask Doris a question, but was stalled with indecision about which one to ask first. Finally, Doris took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She pounded the pack on the table before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Great! Guess I'll start," she said with sarcastic cheeriness before taking a puff of her cigarette. "Find anything interesting in that box I directed you to?"

"Just a couple of names, Joshua Keller Senior and Junior. Oh, and a P.O. Box address for Alabama," Dean answered.

"_Just_ a couple of names? Just a couple of names! They were people, you jackass!" Doris exclaimed angrily as she blew out the cigarette smoke in Dean's face.

"Oh, come ON!" Dean complained as he made a dramatic show of sweeping his arms in front of his face to clear away the smoke.

"Please, he didn't mean any disrespect," Sam said, praying that Doris wouldn't leave without telling them what she knew.

Doris' angry expression immediately melted into one of sadness as she turned to look at Sam. She got up and then sat next to him on the bed.

"You have sad eyes. Sad eyes like the other boy's," she said quietly. "All right. Tell me what else you've found," she said to Dean before taking another puff from her cigarette and blowing out the smoke.

Dean didn't fail to notice that she _didn't_ blow the smoke in Sam's face, but continued anyway.

"I looked up the names from the ledger on the internet using the address from a bounced check that I found in that box. Why they would have accepted checks from _anyone_ staying in this place is beyond me. Anyway, I got two hits on a website of an Alabama newspaper. According to two articles from 1979, the Keller family had a house fire in which the mother, Arlene, died. The cause of the fire was unknown. Joshua Sr. was unhurt and rescued their twin babies who were then taken to the local hospital. According to the doctor who treated them both, the baby girl's condition went south as fast as Joshua Jr.'s got better. The baby girl eventually died. As for Joshua Jr., the doctor even went as far as calling him 'special'," Dean reviewed.

"I don't know about all of that, but it does make some of what he told me about the boy make a bit more sense. But it was still no short of crazy, no two ways about it, even if Joshua Sr. was a handsome bastard," Doris said before bringing the cigarette back up to her lips.

"Pretty boy handsome like Brad Pitt or rugged handsome like a young Clint Eastwood?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Ignore him," Sam said quickly. "What was crazy, Doris?" Sam probed.

Instead of answering him, Doris stood up again and put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the table. With a faint smile on her face, she looked around the room.

"This room hasn't looked this lived-in since they stayed here. Brings back a lot of memories," she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

After a moment, Dean stood up as well.

"Look, Doris. We appreciate you coming here," Dean said, poorly disguising his impatience. "But you're kind of jumping all over the map here. Spare us any more of this trip down memory lane, okay? Instead, how about answering some important questions like who were they? Why were they here? Where are they buried? Give us _something_ that we can use so my little brother doesn't end up in a grave NEXT TO THEM!"

"I'm_ sick_ of your attitude!" Doris said as she pointed a finger in Dean's face. "You know what? I'm sick of _you_. Get lost so your brother and I can have a civilized conversation!"

Dean responded with a huffing sound at the gall of the woman.

"You're crazy! I'm not leaving! You know what? _You_ leave!" Dean responded furiously.

"Dean-," Sam said quietly.

"WHAT?" Dean yelled. "You're on her side now?"

"There are no sides here. I'll be okay," Sam said, understanding the real reason for Dean's reluctance. "I need to hear what she has to say. Just wait outside? Please?"

"Fine. But only because _you_ asked me to," Dean said to Sam. "But I am so NOT leaving you a tip!" he said to Doris with a jab of his finger.

Without another word, Dean stormed to the door, swung it open, and slammed it shut behind him.

"He's a good brother, huh?" Doris asked, impressed with Dean's reaction.

"Yeah. I'm really lucky," Sam agreed. "Josh Jr. wasn't so lucky with his father, was he?"

Doris walked over to the mirror above the dresser to look at her reflection.

"No. But I didn't see it at first. Joshua Sr. was a _real_ charmer. And handsome, like I said. The kind of charm and handsome that can overshadow everything else, at least for awhile anyway," she said before smoothing some loose hair pieces back into place. "And before you laugh, that was a long time ago. I didn't have as many miles on me then. I'm only in my early fifties, you know. This place. It just sucks the life right out of you."

Sam watched her and thought about how about how life had taken a toll on _all_ of them, not just those at this motel. He was only in his early twenties, but sometimes, especially when he laid awake at night after a stressful hunt unable to sleep, he felt so old. Like he had already lived a hundred lifetimes.

"This can't be easy for you. I really appreciate you doing this. My brother does too, I promise," Sam said.

Doris sat back down on the bed next to him and rubbed her eyes.

"Actually, I'm glad to have the chance to talk about this, with everything that has been going on this past year," Doris explained.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, intrigued now.

"Unexplained things have been happening in this room since last July," Doris explained. "Noises, electrical problems, things out of place, you name it. I never told anyone because how could I explain it? And luckily, with the air conditioning and heat broken, no one wanted to stay in here anyway. Until you and your brother that is. I never much believed in ghost stories, but I always wondered if any of it was because of what happened with the Kellers all those years ago. God, listen to me. I sound crazy!"

Sam didn't think she sounded crazy, not at all. His psychic abilities started when he turned twenty two. Was it just a complete coincidence that more apparently supernatural occurrences began happening here after the boy _would have_ turned twenty two? He'd have to hear more of what Doris had to say first before deciding.

"Why don't you start from the beginning and I'll tell you if you're crazy?" Sam asked with a smile to help put her at ease.

It worked. Doris nodded and began her story.

"They checked in on July 1, 1984. Those two stood out in my mind because I was used to rude truckers and other less than desirable people on a one way trip to hell. Believe me, this place wasn't any better that many years ago. Just had a better paint job," Doris said. "Joshua Sr. noticed me looking at him and introduced himself. Asked if I knew of anywhere good to grab a bite. I told him yes, and he insisted that I show him personally. I didn't let it show, but I was dying to talk to someone that seemed normal. To make a connection. You know what I mean?" Doris asked.

Sam nodded yes. Making connections that lasted longer than the duration of a hunt was usually impossible when he and Dean often couldn't even use their real names.

"After I changed clothes," Doris continued, "we left to eat at the diner down the road. Our conversation was based on the usual questions you ask when first getting to know someone. The little boy never said a word, never took his little eyes off of his father the whole time. I thought it was because he was scared of me, because I was a stranger, and my thoughts didn't linger on it. I began to spend as much time with Joshua Sr. as I could, following him around like a puppy dog. He tolerated me doing. Anyway, it wasn't long before I asked about the boy's mother, if he had been married to her. Joshua Sr. told me that his family died because of the boy. He also told me that the boy was slowly killing him too. That he was trying to save his son, but he was fast coming to the point of no return."

_"If I can't save you, I'll have to kill you."_

Sam shivered involuntarily, wondering it was from the unpleasant memory of what the spirit had said to him that night by the road or from a drop in room temperature indicating that a spirit was nearby. Sam took a quick look around the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. That was the second time that day that he felt something, but saw nothing.

"Wwhat...what did you do next?" Sam managed to ask, willing himself to get a grip.

Doris gave him an odd expression at his sudden difficulty in voicing a simple question, but thankfully continued without any comments.

"I laughed out of nervousness, not sure if he was trying to tell a weird joke or something. Apparently he wasn't, because he slapped me so hard across the face that I fell back. I'm sure if we look, we can still find the place where my shoulder dented the wall. Told me to leave the boy to him. Honey, I've had my share of bad relationships. I knew to shut up and never brought up his family or his parenting of the boy again. But him hitting me wasn't the only sign that Joshua Sr. wasn't playing with a full deck," Doris explained.

"What do you mean?" Sam inquired, still unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched.

"Because Josh Jr. usually had bruises. I figured his dad believed in spare the rod, spoil the child or some crap like that. Hell, he had hit me after all. Why wouldn't he also hit his kid? But that wasn't the strange part. The boy's bruises would be there one day and gone the next," Doris explained.

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing! The boy's bruising had been abnormal too? Another unexplained link between him and this boy.

"...but no one asked questions. People minded their own business back then, just like they do now. If I could only do it all over again, I would do something, anything..." Doris said before pausing as to keep her composure. "Then, one day, they stopped coming for breakfast and Josh Sr. wouldn't answer the door or my phone calls. When...their check bounced a few days later on the fourteenth, the owner and a couple of other goons went looking for him in this room. I went with them. I... I wanted to make sure the little boy didn't get in the way. They busted into the room and we saw Joshua Sr. leaning over the boy's little…little body...on the bathroom floor. An empty bottle of cleaning solution was on the rug just outside the bathroom doorway. I recognized it as one that...that we stocked. Joshua Jr. was making this horrible choking sound and writhing around like an animal hit by a car that you just knew was going to die a few moments later," Doris said, tears running down her cheeks now.

Sam gasped and jerked when a painful surge shot through his body. He again felt unbearably nauseous.Was he imagining things or could he again feel the boy's agony as if it was his own? Sam didn't know which would be worse, the pain of death or knowing it was by the hands of someone you loved.

"Oh my God. That's...that's horrible," Sam said, tears in his eyes as well now.

Doris pulled out a tissue from her pocket and continued.

"That's...that's not even the half of it. When we got closer, we saw that Joshua Sr. was gripping the boy's shoulders. He started yelling _'Do it! Do it!_' A few seconds later, he screamed and just...just dropped on top the boy. We rushed to pull him off, but it was too late. They were both dead! It all happened so fast and none of us understood what the hell we had seen. The owner wasn't interested in trying to explain it to the cops, and none of us wanted to lose our jobs. They left me here to clean up the room and to get rid of their stuff while they took the bodies away. I learned later that they buried them somewhere on this property."

Sam shifted on the bed to ease his discomfort as a million questions ran through his mind. Sam didn't understand any more than Doris about what happened. There had to be more. What had actually caused the deaths of the little boy and of his father? Was the cause supernatural, or merely a result of child abuse gone too far? What did the father mean when he said _'do it'_?

"Do...do you know where they are buried?" Sam asked next, knowing that Dean would be angry at him if he forgot to ask.

"No. I'll have to make some calls, see if I can even find the man who owned the motel back then. But I promise that I will do my best," Doris said as she patted Sam's hand. "I don't know what the hell is going on here with you anymore than I did then. But I'm not going to stand by and do nothing this time. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Sam said.

He watched as she rushed out the door and Dean pushed past her to get back inside the motel room.

"Hey, what happened? What did she say?" Dean asked as he quickly sat down on the bed next to Sam.

Sam didn't answer, and instead stood up and walked into the bathroom. He knelt down to the floor and tightly closed his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing, Sammy?" Dean asked. "Get up!"

Dean pullled on his little brother's arm, but Sam pushed him off.

"It was here where he died, Dean. Where they _both_ died," Sam explained before quickly recapping what Doris had told him.

"I have to know more than what the internet or Doris can tell us. I have to talk to _both_ of the spirits. I'm going to wait right here. They're nearby. I can _feel_ it. All I have to do is wait right here," Sam insisted.

"No, no you _don't_ have to talk to them. You now know what the kid was trying to tell you. That his dad murdered him. I'm sure he's at peace now. There's nothing else to figure out," Dean said.

He again grabbed Sam's arm, succeeding this time in pulling him to his feet and partially out of the bathroom. He could feel Sam shaking in his grip.

"No, Dean! There is _so_ much more! JUST LET ME BE!" Sam yelled as he yanked his arm out of Dean's grasp and resumed his position on the bathroom floor.

Once again, Dean had no idea what the hell to do. Once again, he had no control over the situation. With a sigh, Dean grabbed his gun, sat down on the floor in the bathroom next to Sam, and waited. He only hoped Doris would get back to them _before_ Sam got his wish.

**Thanks for being patient for this update and for taking the time to review. I am trying to work on three stories at once while planning my wedding for June! Check back soon for the next chapter! **


	10. How Will You Know

_"I have to know more than what the internet or Doris can tell us. I have to talk to both of the spirits. I'm going to wait right here. They're nearby. I can feel it. All I have to do is wait right here," Sam insisted._

_"No, no you don't have to talk to them. You now know what the kid was trying to tell you. That his dad murdered him. I'm sure he's at peace now. There's nothing else to figure out," Dean said._

_He again grabbed Sam's arm, succeeding this time in pulling him to his feet and partially out of the bathroom. He could feel Sam shaking in his grip._

_"No, Dean! There is so much more! JUST LET ME BE!" Sam yelled as he yanked his arm out of Dean's grasp and resumed his position on the bathroom floor._

_Once again, Dean had no idea what the hell to do. Once again, he had no control over the situation. With a sigh, Dean grabbed his gun, sat down on the floor in the bathroom next to Sam, and waited. He only hoped Doris would get back to them before Sam got his wish._

**Chapter 10: How Will You Know **

**_Hours later…_**

When a loud ring from the phone in the other room shattered the silence, both men jumped.

"Thank God!" Dean mumbled as he awkwardly stood up and rubbed his aching leg muscles. "I guess you're busy. I'll get it," he said sarcastically when Sam made no effort to move.

Sam, remaining in the bathroom, heard Dean answer with a grunt of a hello. He jumped again when Dean touched his shoulder a moment later.

"It's Doris. She'll only talk to you," he said in disgust.

Sam nodded and rose slowly, with a helping hand from his older brother.

"Hello," Sam said into the phone as he ran his other hand over his face.

"Sam? Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. The owner from back then is in jail, but luckily still in contact with his ex-wife. She remembered me, thank God. Anyway, he told me that Joshua Sr. was buried behind the motel, where the lawnmower shed is now. The boy was buried to the right of the weeping willow tree on the small hill to the left of the building. It's the only tree on the property. You can't miss it."

"Thanks, Doris," Sam said in a monotone voice.

"Good luck. I couldn't help him. I hope you can help him _and_ help yourself," she added before hanging up.

"Well?" Dean asked anxiously after Sam hung up the phone receiver. "Did she tell you where they're buried?"

"Yes," Sam said unenthusiastically.

"Finally! Something actually went in our favor? It's about freakin' time!" Dean yelled happily. "I'll get the shovels and you grab the rest of the crap we'll need for the salt and burn," Dean instructed.

"We can't salt and burn the bodies yet, Dean," Sam said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked. "Let's go!"

"_I'm_ not going anywhere," Sam said as he folded his arms across his chest.

"What, don't want to ruin your manicure, Samantha? Fine. Then tell _me_ where they're buried and _I'll_ do it myself!" Dean said.

"No. Not yet," Sam said as he turned to walk back into the bathroom.

"I guess you didn't understand what I said. Tell…me…where…they…are…BURIED!" Dean demanded as he grabbed Sam's arm, making sure he said each word slowly and clearly enough for there to be _no_ confusion this time.

"Let go of me!" Sam demanded, as he tried to pull out of Dean's grasp with no success.

"No! Not until you tell me where the bodies are buried!" Dean yelled.

Sam wrestled against Dean who now had one hand grasping each of Sam's arms. They stumbled back against the nightstand, knocking the lamp onto the floor with a crash.

"Get off of me!" Sam demmanded.

"Tell me and I'll get off!" Dean yelled as they continued to struggle.

With a grunt, Sam pushed Dean backwards to the other side of the room where they crashed into the dresser. Dean retaliated by punching Sam in the face. Dean immediately stepped back from his little brother, shocked at what had just happened.

"Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean said.

Sam held his hand up to his now bloody nose, but said nothing.

"I…I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," Dean apologized again.

Sam's eyes darted from his brother's remorseful face when the spirit of the little boy suddenly materialized behind Dean. Without warning, Sam watched helplessly as Dean was flung sideways into the wall before landing in a heap, unconscious. Relieved that he could see that Dean was breathing and appeared otherwise unhurt, Sam turned this attention to Joshua Jr.

"I tried to show you, but it's already started. Can't you see?" the spirit of Joshua Jr. said as he pointed at Dean.

Sam knelt down and looked directly into the little boy's large tear-filled bright blue eyes.

"Please, what are you trying to tell me? What has already started?" Sam asked.

"My daddy loved me once. But _I_ made him bad. Made him hurt me. Then I hurt him back, like I hurt my sister. I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it. I couldn't control it like I can now. You're special like me. I can feel it. You must stop it before it happens to your brother too!" the boy cried.

"Stop what?" Sam asked, still confused as to the little boy spirit's message.

"Stop it or you'll make him hurt you again. Make him hate you. Turn him into a bad man. Please!" the little boy pleaded.

"I don't under-," Sam began.

"It only hurts for a little while, then it's all over," the boy said, tears flowing down his glowing white cheeks. "It's the _only_ way to save your brother because there is no way for him to save you."

"What only hurts for a little while? When your father hits you?" Sam asked, unable to take his eyes off of Joshua Jr.'s face.

"Don't let the yellow eyed man win," the boy said as he held out his little hand to Sam.

"The yellow…yellow eyed man?" Sam whispered in disbelief.

"I saw him in my dreams. Told me I was special. That I will grow up to be stronger than everyone, even God. Your brother can't save you. He will die trying, or worse, you'll turn him into a killer. _You_ have to stop it now," the boy implored, his open hand still reached out toward Sam.

Sam looked from Josh Jr. to his brother. It was all starting to make sense now. He finally understood what the little boy had been trying to tell him and took his cold little hand in his…

* * *

As the motel room slowly came back into focus, Dean was momentarily confused about why he was on the floor. Then his memory, and the pain of the unexpected attack, came rushing back to him. He rapidly scrambled to his feet. 

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he rushed through the room.

Dean felt his heart begin to pound when he quickly realized that Sam was gone.

"He's with my boy," a male voice answered from the bathroom.

On full alert now, Dean grabbed his shotgun loaded with rock salt and pointed it toward the bathroom as a male spirit that he recognized from the night by the impala walked out of the bathroom toward him. Joshua Sr.

"Don't," Dean warned. "Don't come any closer or I'll blast you straight to oblivion!"

Dean was planning on doing that anyway, but wanted to find out if the spirit knew exactly where Sam was before he did.

"I want to help you and your brother," Joshua Sr. said, but stopped just out of the bathroom.

"Like you helped your son, you son of a bitch?" Dean yelled, his gun still raised.

"I tried to help my son. I tried to save him!" Joshua Sr. explained.

"You killed him, or did you forget that little tidbit of information?" Dean said.

"No. No! I didn't kill him. He killed himself! Drank that…that poison. But I drove him to it. I know that now. I didn't understand then. You have to listen to me if you want to save your brother!" Joshua Sr. explained.

Dean's mouth dropped open at the spirit's words. The boy killed _himself_?

"Why did he do it? To get away from your beatings? Because he knew it was only a matter of time before you killed him? Well, don't you worry about that where my brother's concerned, asshole. I will _never _hurt my brother! I will _never_ kill my brother!" Dean said.

"You don't know what you will become!" Joshua Sr. yelled as he pointed a finger at Dean. "You don't know what you'll be capable of when you get to that point when you realize there is no hope! No way to save him! You'll go crazy! You'll try anything! And I mean _anything_!"

"What really happened that night when the two of you died?" Dean asked, more curious now than concerned about his own well-being.

Dean continued to hold up his gun as he waited to see if Joshua Sr. would answer his question.

"I first knew that my son was different when he and his sister were in the hospital. I realized that he got better by giving his pain, his injuries, _to_ her. Something had turned him bad. Evil. I figured it had to be whatever had put my wife on...on the ceiling and killed her. I didn't know what to do. I took him away with me, thinking that the answer was out there somewhere, hoping someday to return to Alabama. Even kept a P.O. box address and an account at the local bank. Had money in it from the…the insurance settlement. I turned to religion, hoping that God was his salvation, only I didn't go about the right way. Not even close," Joshua Sr. said before pausing a moment.

The male spirit visibly took a deep breath and continued his story.

"I learned to rely on how quickly he healed from the beatings that I gave him to know whether or not my 'treatment' was working. That if the bruises healed normally, that_ he_ would then be normal, cured. I didn't know what else to do! How else to save him. Then one day, I...I left him alone just for a little while to take a walk. When I came back, I found him...he was on the floor of the bathroom...he drank an entire bottle of cleaning solution. I made him throw up, but it didn't help. I watched him…I watched him dying on the floor. I told him to do it, to take my life in return…and he fought it. But then..then he started to do so, albeit involuntarily. It was not enough... once again _I _was not enough. I died and then...he died," Joshua Sr. explained sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry about your son. And I understand your desperation, to an extent. I do. But I have to find your boy. He has my brother. Take me to him! You know it's the right thing to do!" Dean insisted as he waved his gun at the spirit of Joshua Sr.

"I _can't_ face him," the man stated as he shook his head and started to walk back into the bathroom.

"Yes, yes you can. I know you want to end this and finally have peace for you and your son. This is the way to do it. To tell him you made a mistake so he won't convince my brother otherwise," Dean said, hoping he was getting through to the spirit.

Joshua Sr. nodded "yes" a moment later, but still continued to back up into the bathroom.

"You may find them by the weeping willow tree on the left side of the motel. I'm _sorry_ about your brother. I'm _so_ sorry, but I can't...I can't," the spirit said before disappearing mid-stride.

Dean cursed under his breath and dashed out of the motel room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. Would he be enough to convince the boy spirit to leave his brother alone? To convince Sam that Joshua Jr.'s wrong about whatever twisted crap he told him? Remembering what Joshua Sr. had told him, he ran full speed around the motel, past some guests and staff that, not surprisingly, did not seem startled at the sight of a man running around with a shot gun. Dean increased his speed as a weeping willow tree rose into view. When he saw Sam step around the tree, Dean felt instant relief until he saw he was holding the hand of the little spirit boy.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled to him as he continued to run toward them. "Get away from him!"

Sam looked to where he heard his brother yelling and shook his head.

"Don't! Don't come any closer, Dean!" Sam yelled.

Dean stopped about twenty feet from his brother when he saw Sam pull a hand gun out of his pocket and point it at his temple.

"Don't you get it Dean? I will hurt you! I'll hurt you like I hurt Mom, Jessica, and Dad. The boy is right. It all leads back to me, to children like me. We are the next generation of evil. Without us and the yellow eyed demon has no power," Sam said tearfully, the gun still held tight against his temple.

"Sammy, step away from the boy and put down the gun. Look, I'm going to do the same," Dean said as he gently put his shot gun down on the ground, hoping he wasn't making a big mistake. "Let's talk about this. Please."

"There's nothing to talk about, Dean! I understand it all now! He doesn't want me to make the same mistake with you that he made with his father!" Sam cried as he pulled back the trigger.

"No! No," Dean yelled before closing his eyes to calm himself down. "The boy killed himself, Sam, yes, I know. Why? Because he thought it would save his father, give him peace? Well, that didn't work out so well, did it? The father's spirit is still here. And the boy. He didn't find peace either, did he? And we both know that the yellow eyed demon will always have plenty of kids to contaminate. Your death would solve _nothing_. I want you to know that y_ou_ are what has saved me, Sammy. I don't know what I would be, what I would have become, without you. You kill yourself and that's... that when I'm afraid that I will become something evil. Don't take away my chance to save you, _please_. I can do it. I know I can do it!" Dean pleaded, tears in his eyes as well.

Sam's hand holding the gun began to lower a bit as he looked back and forth from Dean and the boy.

"Do it!" the boy yelled. "It's the only way out! He'll never understand!"

"Joshua. No!" Dean heard Joshua Sr.'s voice say from somewhere behind him.

Dean turned to see the spirit of Joshua Sr. standing behind him.

"Dad?" Joshua Jr. cried. "What...what are you doing here?"

"It's not the right thing to do now anymore than it was then, with us. I don't want history to repeat itself with these two men. What I do want is peace for you and for me. I want you…to know… that I blame myself for everything. I hate myself," Joshua Sr. explained as he walked closer to his little boy.

"I know. Because of what I turned you into," Joshua Jr. finished.

"No. No. For what _I_ turned myself into and drove you to do. You did _nothing_ wrong. You had no control over what was happening. Do you forgive me? Please forgive me, son," Joshua Sr. pleaded with sorrow filled eyes.

Joshua Jr. looked absolutely confused.

"I wish _you_ could forgive me!" Joshua Jr. cried

"There's nothing to forgive. I love you!" Joshua Sr. responded emphatically.

Sam and Dean watched as the two spirits ran to each other, both crying, and hugged. A moment later, with a flash of light almost too bright to look at, they both disappeared.

Dean walked over to Sam, who appeared to still be staring at the spot where the two spirits were only a moment ago, and gently pulled the gun out of his hand that Sam had since lowered. He put Sam's gun down on the ground and hugged his brother. Sam didn't hug back, instead dropping to his knees.

"You weren't really considering killing yourself. You were just stalling until the boy and his father made up, right?" Dean asked into Sam's ear as he continued to hug him.

When Sam didn't answer, Dean spoke again.

"I won't give up on you, Sammy. Don't you dare give up on me," Dean whispered.

When Dean felt Sam finally nod his head in agreement, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had his brother back. Sam let Dean help him up and lead him away from the tree, but Sam couldn't help one last look back. Had he made the right choice? Would Dean ultimately be the one making a sacrifice for him? Only time would tell...

Dean was happy to let Sam sleep while he salted and burned the bodies that night. The next morning, when Sam was still dozing away, Dean watched him and thought about what could have happened. What may happen in the future...Dean was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. Dean got up from the desk and opened it to see Doris looking back at him.

"Look, lady, I'm not in the mood to argue with you, okay? I'm-," Dean said, before his sentence was cut short by her grabbing him into a hug.

"Sam called me last night. I just wanted to tell you thank you, " Dean heard her whisper. "Tell your brother goodbye for me, okay? It's time I move on, too."

Dean shook his head, a bit taken back by her words. He watched her walk away before again looking back at his still sleeping little brother. Could he and Sam move on from all of this too? Well, if nothing else, it was time they moved on from this place. He walked over to the bed and shook Sam awake. Without a word, Sam slowly rose and headed into the bathroom. About a half an hour later, after Dean had packed the car and Sam was settled in the passenger seat, Dean made his last trip to the lobby to check out. Sal was at the front desk this time. Dean almost missed the chance to ring John's bell. _Almost_.

"We're out of here, Sal. Thanks for the memories," Dean said.

"So?" Sal asked.

"So, what?" Dean asked. "You want a hug goodbye?"

"What's the verdict?" Sal asked with a big smile.

"The verdict?" Dean asked, confused until Sal's meaning hit him. "Oh. Sorry, Sal. Your place isn't haunted after all."

Not anymore, Dean thought.

"If someone should happen to have a...a..._serious _accident in the next few minutes or so, would they turn into a ghost and _then_ this place would be haunted?" Sal asked hopefully.

"Uh," Dean said as he thought of how he could answer that so very wrong question. "No, sorry. Doesn't work like that."

Jeez, Dean thought. The lengths people will go to to get some female attention. He almost felt sorry for Sal. _Almost._

"Oh, okay then," Sal said, obviously disappointed. "But if you boys ever want to come back here and check again, feel free to bring your pretty ghost talker friend with you, okay?"

"Sure, Sal," Dean said with a smile.

A few minutes later, Dean joined Sam in the impala. Sam's head was leaning against the headrest, his hair blowly slightly from the cool wind that had started that morning. Looked like the heat wave had finally broke. Sam had slept so much, but somehow still looked completely wiped out to Dean.

"I'll wake you when we get there, okay, Sammy?" Dean said as he turned the key in the ignition.

"How will you know when we get there?" Sam asked seriously.

Dean sighed, knowing that his little brother wasn't talking about their next motel. He knew what Sam meant. How would he know when they got to that point of no return? When he finally knew that there was no way to save Sam? That he would have to…. Dean couldn't even think it. For now, he had Sam back and someday he would find a way to permanently keep it that way.

Sam watched as the motel shrunk smaller and smaller in the mirror as Dean drove them out of the lot and onto the road. It was over, but Sam knew he would never forget what the boy had said. He knew he would never forget what Dean had said either. Dean had told him that he was afraid that without him, he would become something evil. Funny thing was, Sam was afraid of the very same thing. If he didn't have Dean, who or what would he become?

**The End**


End file.
